


Welcome Home (Sanitarium)

by Krohma



Series: Translations [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Dean and Mental Health Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krohma/pseuds/Krohma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[AU] Broughton Hospital wasn't like all the others, like those we see in the series that pollute television screens. Here, the patients had any other kinds of diseases. Those whose stigmas aren't visible at first sight. Those who break the mind and trample consciousness. Those that we don't understand.</p><p>Every week, Castiel followed the same regular and clocked routine. He visited Anna, whose stay in Broughton Hospital seemed to have no end. He brought her orchids, he took care of her. It was simple. He didn't need anything more. So why the patient next room fascinated him so much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturdays

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Welcome Home (Sanitarium)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/91490) by Ellen BK. 



> Author's notes:
> 
> Disclaimers: The Supernatural series is not mine, I only take its characters and maul them a little in the universe that I build.
> 
> Warnings: Presence of sensitive issues in the dialogues.
> 
> Here is a small AU that's completely different from The Shortest Straw. Here, the chapters will be short, reaching only 2000-3000 words maximum. The story is a little lost in space and in time. I just wanted to write this idea. The Broughton Hospital doesn't really exist. The relationship between Dean and Castiel will be at the heart of the plot, contrary to what I usually write. I also write the chapters gradually. Although I have the story in mind, I don't know how many chapters all of this will take. One thing is certain: it won't be long!
> 
> Also, I'm not a doctor, I have done no study in this area and the only member of my family related to the health field cares for pregnant women. And I doubt that I'll put a bun in the oven of Dean or Cas. All this to say that there may be mistakes and if this is the case, I apologize. This story is based only on my few researches over its writing.
> 
> Welcome Home (Sanitarium) is a Metallica song that I really like (looks like all my destiel fanfic will be named after one of the band's titles), from the album "Master of Puppets". Its lyrics reflects pretty well the little universe that I've installed here, except for the last verse. I won't go so far, don't panic!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this universe! This is really a AU, despite all the references to the series. Enjoy your reading!
> 
> Special thanks: A big Thank You for the marvellous Dupont et Dupont, for her proofreading and her corrections.

Every Saturday, Castiel Novak followed the same routine. His alarm woke him at dawn while his feet slid out of the quilt, taking him to his bedroom closet. With a precise movement, he grabbed his sports clothes before putting it on with instinctive gestures. Castiel never went out long, just the time to go around the neighborhood in a few strides, crossing from time to time its most early riser neighbors who addressed him hand gestures, smile stuck to their lips. Here, the houses were all alike. The landscape was a succession of buildings whose owners were in debt for years in order to be the proud buyers, with the white fence and lush green lawn, cut perfectly. Castiel wasn't even paying attention anymore, staring straight in front of him on the road. His feet treaded the tarmac perfectly flowed that ran along these homes, without any skinning or cut. The wind whipped his face. Sweating drops beaded along his neck, his hair buckling slightly. His pace was steady. His breath was stable. And all was quiet and peaceful.

When his front door slammed behind him, locking him in his turn in one of these famous soulless houses, Castiel was heading mechanically to the bathroom. His feet were climbing one by one the steps of the stairs without him paying attention to the photographs that were on the walls. Smiles and sparkling eyes followed him along his ascension, real ghosts from happy days of the Milton-Novak family. Once his clothes were carefully slid in the laundry basket, the water finally felled in a burning and steady steam on Castiel before he close his eyes, his head leaning backward.

The snoring coffee machine rocked his careful reading of the daily newspaper, filed earlier on the doorstep. Towel around his waist, Castiel then drank his cup, letting his eyes leave behind the window, peering a fixed point lost in space. Then, like every Saturday, he went to his room and dressed in his white shirt, his black pants and jacket and his blue tie. Since this was how _she_ desired to see him. Finally, trench coat on his back, Castiel left his house and walked toward the city center - he didn't like to be in his car, too compact to his liking.

If you paid attention enough, you could easily discern the Broughton Hospital in the horizon. Its two towers of anthracite concrete emerged gradually in the landscape as he approached, revealing then the rest of the building that took shape in shades of grey and beige. "Hospitals shouldn't be places this sad." a young autistic had said once. With a smile, Castiel had nodded since, after all, he wasn't wrong. There was already so much misery within its walls, it wasn't necessary to lay it on thick by painting it in the shades of despair. However, in the room of the young man, a multitude of red, orange, blue and yellow flowers were always struggling for some space. Drawings of children littered the walls and it was a long time since a single piece of grey had been seen in this with the colors of life and happiness. Castiel took care of going there, from time to time, after visiting _her_. It was one of his favorite places in this sinister hospital.

Broughton Hospital wasn't like all the others, like those we see in the series that pollute television screens. The doctors had nothing glamorous, absolutely nothing happened in the elevators and the patients went out too rarely healed. Here, people didn't take care about bloody and dramatic emergencies, or even incurables diseases with only fictional miracle solutions. Here, the patients had any other kinds of diseases. Those whose stigmas aren't visible at first sight. Those who break the mind and trample consciousness. Those that we don't understand.

On his way, Castiel always stopped at Joshua's shop where he always bought a new orchid. These flowers had the ability to always surprise him. They were never the same, both in form and in size, and always revealed new colors. "This is one of the most diversified families." The florist had explained to him. "Orchids have more than twenty-five thousand species." Once the flower was carefully wrapped by Joshua, Castiel took his walk again, new shades of bright colors in his eyes.

The bay windows of the hospital always opened in the same way in front of Castiel, in a light but unpleasant hissing sound. No sooner entered in the building, a hot and stifling blow enveloped him, in this odor so characterisitc of hospitals - a sort of mix between cleaning products and melancholy. Without thinking, Castiel was heading mechanically to _her_ room, his heavy footsteps echoing on the stairs and in the hallways. The nurses now recognized him and offered him a few smirks, sometimes ponctuated with a "hello" and "how are you today?". Castiel always answered that everything was okay, without trying to tell more, to tell them that if he could he wouldn't be here in these stinking hallways, that if he could she wouldn't be there either, waiting in a grim room that he couldn't stand anymore. Castiel was well aware that all of this was only politeness and courtesy. They were already well enough busy with their patients who had real problems, them.

The door to _her_ room was always the same, the number 41 nailed to the wood stained of a faded yellow. The bedroom ran along another room which, at least as far as Cas could remember, had always been empty. Through the walls he could hear the sound of the television set. It was constantly on, flooding the room with voices and whispers. It reassured _her_ , _she_ had confided to him one day, because _she_ knew they were real, unlike those who constantly scraped _her_ mind.

Then, like every Saturday, Castiel knocked on the door before entering the room.

Anna was always in the same position, sitting cross-legged on her bed with white sheets, dressed with an even whiter outfit. Eyes fixed on the television screen, her lips moving imperceptibly. When Castiel closed the door behind him and filed the orchid in the vase on her bedside table, she would sometimes, on occasions, realize that he was here. Sometimes, they would have a few conversations, just like before. They may only were cousins, but Castiel still considered Anna as his own sister. She had always took care of him when he was younger. During her lucid moments, Anna would ask if everything was fine, if he still enjoyed his work, if Naomi wasn't too rude with him and even how were his bees. Castiel would answer her, cradling her with his deep voice until her gaze get lost again. Sometimes it wasn't that simple. Anna would panic, cry, scream, and beg for everything to stop. She would tear her red hairs by compact clump, scratch her skin until it bleed. The nurses would always arrive like a whirlwind in the room, helping Castiel to control the young woman. And, sometimes, Anna wouldn’t even realize that he was here.

Then he would laid a kiss on her forehead and leave, gently closing the door behind him. Occasionally, Castiel cast a glance at the other rooms from where light whispers escaped. He knew a few of them, now. In the room 39, which was facing Anna's, was a man, Balthazar, who persisted on saying that the work of Celine Dion was a creation of Satan and that the Titanic should have never sink. He had once explained to Castiel that he had developed a plan to save all the victims - a story of traveling in time, something like that. In the room 37 was Garth, a former dentist who only spoke through Mr. Fizzles, an old doll whose body was nothing but a worn sock. Sometimes, Castiel would talk to them and shared a few moments with them. And sometimes, he would simply just go home, head down.

Every week, Castiel Novak followed the same regular and clocked routine. Things were easier this way. He didn't wonder anymore, didn't try to change things anymore. What for? Now, he was there for Anna. And that was all that mattered.

When, on a Saturday like any other, everything changed. The day had yet been usual, beginning on the regular ringing of his alarm clock. He'd been running, going around the block into twenty minutes before showering and drinking his coffee, staring outward. He had been to Joshua's shop and had taken a new orchid - yellow and orange, mottled with purple notes - before going into the Broughton Hospital. Anna had been calm and had even talked to him, completely ignoring the television as soon as he had arrived. But this time, when Castiel left Anna, he briefly saw shadows moving on the linoleum and voices that escaped from the doorway on his left. After getting a little closer, with a discreet step, he had no longer any doubt. Castiel was sure.

The next room wasn't empty anymore.

Despite himself, Castiel couldn't help but being intrigued, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was only because of a morbid curiosity or if this sudden interest was only the result of the disruption of his weekly scheme, so regular and orderly. After all, there was never much of a change in Broughton Hospital. The new patients were mostly sent to the hospital in the next town over, much more deemed than this one. But, when the romm's door was open Castiel let out his gaze and watched, sometimes only contenting himself with a piece of face or a arm's length.

The young man was dressed like every other patient of the hospital, a milky pants and a washed-out shirt. Like Anna, his gaze was lost in the room, his green eyes staring into space, as if he was trying to understand something, his lips moving silently. Most of the time, he remained motionless. However, he was never in the same place. Sometimes he was lying on his bed, sometimes he was crouched against the wall. It was unpredictable. There was no logic, no coherence. Sometimes when Castiel walked past his room, he would even hear him talk. His voice was hoarse but tinged with a despair that he had never heard before. The words "purgatory" and "Benny" came and came back in his mouth again and again. He repeated them, like a slow prayer, like a cruel litany. Castiel listened to him talking about demons, vampires, leviathans and others unspeakable things. Sometimes he would even hear him lose his temper, shouting that he had to find a solution, that he had to go out of here, that he had to return to a certain Sammy. Then the silence would reassert itself and Castiel could see him in the half-opened door, his gaze lost into space again. This kind of completely furious and rambling speech, Castiel had already heard it - heard too much. He had vowed to never mix with those kind of persons again, those with a broken past and a nebulous future. And yet. When the young man's room was empty, he stood there, standing in front of his door, besotted with a shameful fascination.

A few weeks after the arrival of the new patient, his room was suddenly animated as never before. When he came to visit his cousin, Castiel could see that there was almost always people. A tall man with mid-long and brown hairs was now there every saturday, without exception, often accompagnied by a young blond woman, almost as tall as him. They seemed to be a couple - Castiel had seen them in the front of the hospital in each other's arms. A bearded and a bit gruff old man was also there quite regurlarly, as this woman with long brown hair who often reprimanded the young woman - Joanna - who came with her. The next room had not seen so many faces in many months, many years.  
Yet despite the laughters, despite the smiles on the faces, despite the vitality that inspired the many guests in the room of the stranger, Castiel couldn't help thinking that something was missing. There may be bustle and animation. There may be warmth and words. There may be a family. But when they were leaving, there was nothing left. There wasn't any liveliness anymore. When Castiel was leaving, passing in front of his room, there was only silence. Only white walls and a man with green eyes lost in the void.  
Then the horizon engulfed the Broughton Hospital until it's a shadow on the landscape. Castiel popped by again in front of Joshua's shop that was closing before returning to his neighborhood where the houses were all the same andwhere the neighbours always had beautiful smiles on the corner of their lips. He showered again, rubbing his body vigorously, getting rid of the stench that had seeped through his pores. The sound of the TV then weakly echoed in the living room while his jaw painfully chewed the leftovers of the day before. Castiel wore himself out as he could, trying to forget the day he had lived and the fact that in just seven days, everything would be exactly the same way again.  
Since he didn't know yet that everything would change.

Everything happened a few days later. Castiel didn't really know when he took this decision, when he decided to change his habits very slightly. Maybe was it during one of these face to face dinners with the television, or during one of his footings. Maybe he hadn't even really decided before stepping into Joshua's shop. Perhaps he had made this decision when the florist had asked him if he wanted a new orchid, as usual. The fact remains that, this time, he didn't nodded, and he didn't answer yes. Since this time, Castiel slowly opened his mouth and asked.

"Would it be possible to have two of them, from now on?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes : That's it for the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this little moment of reading. See you soon for the next. Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed, don't hesitate to leave a review!
> 
> Ellen.


	2. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Hello!
> 
> Thank you for the welcome you gave to this story, I'm glad to see that you are interested in. Here is a new chapter, different from what I usually write. With this story, I have fun, I write short chapters where I can explore new themes and styles. Don't worry, the plot will still soon get truly up.
> 
> Special Thanks: A big thank you to Dup' who took on her school holidays to correct this chapter for me!

Mechanical tinkling rang in as the coins rolled into the machine, one after the other. Seconds later, the engine trembled slightly, letting out a loud roar while jerking jets of hot and thick liquid flowed slowly in a black cup. Then the machine stopped short and a high tone sounded.

The coffee was ready.

Castiel lifted the glass that separated him from his drink and took the cup, trying to touch as little as possible the burning part of it. He raised it to his nose, trying to sniff the aroma that escaped from. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Castiel sighed. Decidedly, he didn't like the hospital coffee.

Unquestionably, Castiel preferred the coffee he made himself at home or the one proposed in the little bistro in the city center, in front of the police station. Here, the drink wasn't worth much. A few tens of cents and that was it: industrial and tasteless coffee filled in seconds a plastic cup biting his fingers through its unbearable heat. So he came only rarely in the cafeteria where only a few machines and other vending machines offered visitors something to drink and eat. Since, in addition to the bland coffee he was drinking there, the place was always crowded, full of people that flooded the space of a deaf and deafening hubbub. Castiel still had difficulty in finding a table where he could be alone, away from children playing and screaming or couples who were arguing with each other. 

With a quick glance, he analyzed the area. Several families were standing in the room, discussing among themselves. Castiel knew he had crossed a few of those people during his weekly visits. Some visitors had learned to know each other, to sympathize. Many of them came here regularly, like Castiel. But Castiel was always alone in the corner of the cafeteria, on his rare visits. He was still clinging to his usual pattern, to his paced steps. It was not for lack of trying, at the beginning. But it hadn't worked. He couldn't understand the other visitors, as they couldn't understand him. So Castiel had given up. Anyway, he came here for Anna. He didn't come to make friends.

Castiel quickly spotted a table near the front door. With a quick and decided pace, Castiel rushed to it. A few drops escaped the cup when Castiel put it on the high table, staining the furniture a bit more than it was already. Castiel breathed on the liquid, trying to cool it down a bit. He was eager to leave this room that was choking him but he wasn't provided in a hurry to return to his cousin's room. After all, he hadn't left for nothing. Today, it was her birthday. Anna celebrated her twenty-five years. Therefore, the Novak-Milton family had partially assembled for the occasion. Michael and Uriel came, as his uncle Zachariah and his aunts Naomi and Hester. Castiel would have done without. He loved them, they were his family, his flesh, his blood. But things were much simpler when he was alone with Anna. No one was trying to force her to react, to become again as she was before. No one judged her. There was only Gabriel who also behaved like this with her. But he hadn't return for months, maybe even years. Castiel had stopped counting.

He put his hand to the small clothed basket on the table before grasping one of the stirrers it contained. Castiel placed it in his coffee and began to play slowly with, swirling the liquid in the cup. He raised his wrist and looked at his watch. He had left for only five minutes now.

Beside him, the doors of the cafeteria opened and let come a couple who quietly discussed. Castiel immediately recognized them. He couldn't be wrong. This immensely tall man with long brown hair and the woman almost as tall, her wavy blond hair flowing over her shoulders, could only be the couple who regularly visited the patient next room. Castiel watched them move to the coffee machine, forgetting his own drink which waited patiently on the table. The man slipped coins into it, as Castiel had done earlier. And two minutes later, the young woman was pressing her tea cup in her hands and the young man grabbed the coffee that had just been served. They then turned towards the room, apparently seeking a place to settle. Castiel imitated them, wondering where they would go, since all the tables were occupied and overcrowded, before bringing his attention on the couple again. The young woman was slightly turned and, with this angle, Castiel noticed a detail that had eluded him until then. She was pregnant. Three-four months, at most. She put a hand on her stomach and lightly stroked it, her eyes lost in the room. Then, suddenly, she looked up and met Castiel's gaze.

And, without really understanding why, Castiel gave her a wave of the hand.

What was he playing at? He didn’t know them. It weren't his various observing sessions that made him someone close to them. His behavior was just stupid. Rash. It was absolutely not like him. What was he going to tell them? He would look like a fool again.

While Castiel was ready to slap himself both mentally and physically, the young woman replied a smile and walked over to him, followed by the young man who was watching him with a questioning look. Once they arrived at his level, Castiel tried to justify himself.

"I won't stay here for long, if you want to have my table."

The smile of the woman with blond hair grew at these words, brightening her face.

"It's really nice." She replied. "Thank you very much."

"It's nothing, I know it's hard to find a table here. I'll hurry to finish my coffee."

"Okay with you, Sam?" The young woman asked to her companion.

He put down his cup on the table before running a hand through his hair. He gave a shy smile to Castiel before replying.

"Yes, that's fine, thank you. But it's not worth to hurry, don't worry for us."

Castiel answered with a smile before focusing on his drink. With a regular move from his wrist, he stirred the drink, ensuring that sugar has not deposited on the bottom of the cup. He was about to drink his coffee in one go when the man, Sam, began to talk to the young woman about someone else.

Someone named Dean.

Castiel understood quickly that he was the patient who was staying in the room next to Anna's. Dean. So his name was Dean. Castiel couldn't help but listen to what the couple was saying about him. The woman whispered that he seemed to get better, today. That everything would certainly get better. That he would not stay that way all his life. That they had to trust the doctors. Sam was listening to the words of his partner, nodding regularly, staring into space. He seemed to have lost hope. The young man replied that he was afraid to never get his brother back as he was before. That he blamed himself to have let him go there, all so Dean could follow in their father's footsteps. Castiel lowered his head a bit more, ashamed to interfere in the moment that the couple was sharing.

"I still wonder who brings orchids in Dean's room."

Castiel, who was trying to finish his coffee without getting his tong burned at the same time, nearly choked at the young man's comment. Luckily for him the couple didn't seem to notice.

"You're sure it's not from the hospital?" the woman with blond hair asked.

"No, I asked them... They don't offer flowers to the patients. It's obviously a visitor, but I asked everyone... Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Andrea. Lisa didn't come by. I even asked Rufus, to be honest. No one knew what I was talking about."

"He must have a secret admirer then." The young woman offered in a giggle. "I wouldn't even be surprised if I was told that he had already started to break hearts here."

"Yeah, that'd look like him." Sam said with a smile. "It makes me happy that he receives these flowers, anyway."

The young man licked his lips before continuing, his gaze suddenly lost on the table.

"And damn, I miss him. I'd just like to go back to the apartment and listen to him talking about the conquest he had the day before, I would even let him tell me all the details if he'd wanted to. And I'd keep talking about you and he would make fun of my "damn lousy romanticism" as he called it. And I would tell him about the baby. He doesn't even know he's going to be an uncle…"

His partner put a hand on his shoulder before stroking it lightly with her thumb. Castiel looked away and quickly finished his coffee. He tried to get up quietly, so as not to disturb the intimate moment they were both living.

Castiel slid down the table and quietly walked to the door. The couple didn't notice him and he could hear the young woman whispering comforting words to her companion. Castiel then passed through the doors, without a word.

The path that led him to Anna's room seemed interminable. Castiel had always believed that bind with other families, that knowing other persons in the same situation as his would be a good thing. It was his main motivation when he had tried to make efforts during his first weeks at the Broughton Hospital. Castiel couldn't have been more wrong. It was painful. The feelings which inhabited that young man named Sam were far too concrete, far too real. Castiel could understand them more than anyone. And it was hard to hear his own feelings, his own thoughts, to escape from someone else's mouth. It was so cruel to see his own pain to emerge on someone else's face, to see his tears moisten someone else's eyes. Castiel might not know that Sam, or even his partner, but he was sad that they had to feel what himself lived for days and days, months, years. And Castiel had stupidly wondered how the new patient, Dean, was before he had sink into lunacy. How was this man that Sam was missing so much? What did he do for a living? What were his dreams, his ambitions? Did he had any passions, hopes? Any fears?

And wasn't he going too far to wonder about all those things about a man he didn't even know?

Once in front of Anna's room, Castiel sighed. His hand was on the handle but he dared not lower it. Not right now. Through the door, he could hear Naomi discussing with Zachariah. They were talking about work, once again. As if it wasn't enough that they see each other every day at the office, they had to continue here, in their niece's room. Castiel hesitated for a few seconds, his hand placed on the handle. If he'd enter now, Naomi would talk to him about work again. Yet, his work was simple. He was satisfied with only reap the civilians’ complaints and he also took care about the traffic, sometimes. He was a good policeman, who respected the orders, who respected the rules. The sheriff was proud of him. But Naomi wanted him to change, to have a better (higher) post, even if it meant changing radically his career. Castiel had no more ideas on how explain to her that he was really fine the way he was.

His feet stepped backward, letting him enough vision so he could glance in the next room. A few steps more and he could cross this edge, like all those times he had come in and discreetly left an orchid. Dean had never noticed him but the flowers were always very well looked after. Castiel knew pertinently that it wasn't Dean himself who took care of them but he couldn't help but to feel a sweet feeling when he realized that if this room had more life, it was a bit thanks to him and his flowers. Only, he hadn't been able to bring one this week. His cousins, his uncle and his aunts would have asked questions and Castiel didn't wish to explain them his weird fascination toward his cousin's neighbor, a patient who was committed in the Broughton Hospital, a man that he didn't even know.

Castiel took a step forward, getting slightly closer to Dean's room. Did he has the right to enter, even if he hadn't any flower with him? Was he allowed to ensure the patient was fine, left alone in this cold room? Another step dragged him a bit more toward the room.

It was at this precise moment that Dean noticed him.

The young man had turned his face toward him, scanning him with his green eyes. Castiel swallowed hardly. The man in front of him didn't blink, not once, and didn't said a single word. He just stayed on his bed, sitting legs crossed and stared at him again, again, again, flooding him in an absinthe sea.

Was Dean really seeing him? Was he conscious of his presence?

Loud voices broke the silence which had insinuated in the corridor, making Castiel immediately start. He took a step backward before rushing toward Anna's room and opening the door, without thinking any more second.

Five pairs of eyes stared at Castiel while he closed the door behind him, short-winded. Anna, her, was talking without making any sound, not even the slightest murmur, eyes glued to the television. Naomi, whom the hairstyle was always perfectly settled up, then addressed him a smile.

"Ah, just in time, Castiel." She started. "We were talking about the company. Did you know that Inias intends to leave us at the end of the month? We are currently looking for someone to replace him, you know."

His aunt continued to talk, explaining more in details the reason of Inias' leaving – a hazardous love story, for what Castiel understood. He listened to her without interrupting, all of politeness and courtesy.

Castiel quickly passed his tongue on his lips, slightly humidifying them. A light taste of coffee insinuated in his mouth. And, as Naomi continued to talk, Uriel and Michael approving each of her words, Castiel thought with nostalgia about his short moment passed in the cafeteria.

And, sheltered from any look, a smile sprouted in the corner of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And that's it for the second chapter. The third should be quicker to arrive, if all goes well. I'll begin its writing this weekend :) ! I quickly get used to the chapters of 2500 words, to be honest. It's nice! It's strange to come back on a basis of 7000 when I return to my other story, uh.
> 
> See you soon.


	3. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes : And here we go with the third chapter of this story ! Given how it started, it is more likely to be 10 chapters long than 5. It's completely my fault. I move the story step by step and I linger over coffee machines descriptions.
> 
> Happy reading !
> 
> Special Thanks: Thank you to Dup' for this colorful correction, with the perfect touch to point out my mistakes. Perfectly in the theme, I'm touched.

Jade. Imperial. Castiel couldn't pinpoint this shade of green that obsessed him for weeks now. It wavered between light and dark, sometimes tinged with blue, sometimes tinged with gold. Elusive, this emerald with a hint of spring taunted him insolently.

Its name brushed Castiel's tongue, ready to slip between his lips. He had to remember it. He had to find its nature, its origins, since this color was one of those that you see only once in your life. And Castiel cursed himself for not being able to remember its peculiar shade.

Yet, it was not a lack of trying. Far from it. Castiel had conducted his investigation, going as far as inquire with Joshua. After all, his shop was full of flowers and plants of all kinds, so the stems or leaves adorned with a fabric with a thousand-and-one shades of green. Castiel had lightly touched each of them, one by one, trying to remember. He had lingered on orchids, they still offered him many surprises. But there was nothing to do. It wasn't the right place. So, Castiel had even returned to the forest that bordered the city to the north, analyzing the leaves of every tree he met. It was a place where he went from time to time, a little paradise away from the asphalt jungle he paced every day. And it was aggrieved that Castiel had closed his front door, leaving behind the crumbs of hope he sowed on his way.

Chrome. Veronese. Would he succeed one day to put a name on this color? Olive. Bottle. With a sigh, Castiel dropped his head backwards and stared at the ceiling. To say he was able to determine its color in one glance. Ivory. The plaster was tasteless, adjoining grey and dull yellow. There was nothing here comparable to this sparkling green that haunted him again and again. And again.

A feeling of resentment ran through Castiel. He had never really enjoyed this hospital, but this time it was different. Something was different, something was wrong. This impression had budded in him for a while but the unease never been so heavy in his stomach. It was strange. It was as if there was something missing.

So he continued to seek. Sage. No, it still wasn't that. Chartreuse. Celadon. Still not that.

"What are you thinking about, Castiel?”

Anna's voice got him out of his thoughts and, with a quick movement, he bowed his head. Sitting against the headboard, her legs were covered with a thick rough coverage to squared patterns. She stared at Castiel with her green-but-not-the-right-shade eyes, her head leaning to the side. Since when had she stopped watching TV?

A guilt tip pierced Castiel's chest, ripping over his heart. All his Saturdays were given to Anna, he had no right to get carried away with futile thoughts.

His cousin frowned slightly. She seemed anxious. Now she was worried about him. This was not right. This was not supposed to be that way. It was up to him to take care of her and not the reverse. Those times were passed long ago.

Castiel put his hands on his knees before standing up and getting closer to the young woman, a smile on his lips.

"Nothing, don't worry."

With his right hand, he grabbed a lock of her blazing hair and slid it behind her ear. But the gesture of affection didn't have the intended effect. To Castiel's disappointment, Anna still seemed anxious.

"You can talk to me, you know. I am still there to listen. I've always been. It will never change."

At these words Castiel's throat knotted. He couldn't know whether his cousin, on her rare moments of lucidity, was aware of her situation and of all the changes that had followed her internment. Was she aware of the fact she spent her whole days lying in this bed? Was she aware of everything she had lost? Her friends, her future, her freedom? Her family?

As for him, Castiel was only too aware of that. Not a day would pass without the memories of the sizzling resonant voice of his colleague in his official car would invade him. A murder had been committed at 243 Main Street. Castiel remembered perfectly that day, this shiver of dread that had traveled him when he had stepped on the accelerator, this burst of hope that had sprung when he had set off – perhaps it was not what he was thinking after all? – and this painful disillusionment that had crept in him when he had seen all the police cars glittering with blue and red in front of the house. He knew it, this house with stone walls and flower garden. He went there every Sunday. Castiel hadn't thought when he had parked along the road, slamming the door of the still warm car behind him. He hadn't been psychologically prepared before lifting the security strip that barricaded the front door, nor when he had entered the living room, not even realizing he had walked in a pool of blood. Everything had been mechanical, instinctive. Without feeling. Yes, Castiel remembered perfectly that day. The two bodies lying on the floor. The white walls stained of a bright red.

And Anna's screams that had never really stopped since.

"Tell me." Insisted his cousin. "I might be able to help you."

A smile curved Anna's lips, irradiating hope all around her. So Castiel made up his mind.

"I'm just looking for a color." He started. "A green. It's been three weeks that I've been thinking about it, that I list all the green that I know, but to no avail. I don't find, and it all starts to obsess me a little. It doesn't look like me. I'm lost."

Anna stared at him. She didn't laugh. If Castiel had explained this to other members of his family, they would have just laughed in his face. It was not a real problem, it wasn't important. It wasn't worth get worked up. It only was a color. But Anna, she said nothing of it. She tilted her head back, seeming to think about her cousin's words, before plunging her eyes into his.

"Do you remember the last time you saw it?"

"No, I don't, this is indeed the problem. I just know I had never seen it before and that I haven't had the opportunity to see it again after… It was furtive, stolen in the time. And since then, I only look for this green. It's frustrating."

"I get it. Did you try? To recreate it yourself? By drawing or painting it?"

Castiel shook his head from right to left. All of this, he had it tried over and over again. Unsuccessfully.

"Yes, but it has absolutely produced nothing… It wasn't even worth it. It's never really the same in my mind. It is unclear, confused, I can't do anything with it."

One of Anna's hands rested on Castiel's. She brushed him with her thumb, providing a form of maternal love Castiel had not received for a long time, for far too long. He let out a sigh. Anna had always had this gift and, despite her situation, she had not lost it. Castiel was grateful about this. He didn't know what he would have become if he had lost this comforting presence at his side. He might have been good to join the list of patients of this hospital, too.

"I'm sorry I cannot help you." Anna whispered. "I wish I could do more for you."

"Don't worry. It is not very important, you know. It'll pass eventually."

Anna opened her mouth, about to reply, when television began to roar into the room, announcing the arrival of the 5 p.m. program. An insipidus television program where candidates spent their time criticizing and insulting each others, scratching the English language without remorse.

Anna turned her head and stared at the screen. Her hand slipped, falling on the blanket. In a few seconds, she had forgotten everything else.

She had forgotten Castiel.

And even if it wasn't the first time a moment like this happened, the pain was always the same, pulsing in every fiber of his body. And to say that he had been so naive to believe, in the first months of Anna's interment, that it would fade with time and the force of habit, that he'd get used to it, that he wouldn't even pay attention to it anymore. Now he knew that it was not possible. So he accepted it.

There wasn't much else to do anyway.

Castiel put his hand on his neck, watching his cousin. Nasal voices escaped the post, speaking of treason and conspiracy. A young woman complained about another candidate, which she said was the son of a prostitute or God knew what. Anna's lips were moving in rhythm with no sound. It was time to leave. So Castiel leaned slightly and his lips brushed his cousin's forehead. He whispered her goodbye before grabbing the trench coat he had left on the chair in the room earlier. He walked to the door, addressed one last look at his cousin then rushed into the corridor.

It was dark and silent. Through the windows, the lights of the city twinkled. The night was about to wake up and wrap the horizon.

With a decided step, Castiel was about to get under way, without any detour. He was eager to go home, to find his cocoon of his own. He had to return to his comforting routine, to his reassuring habits. And yet, his feet mechanically stopped at the door of the next room.

Castiel hadn't seen the patient who lived there for several weeks. No one had come to see him. His door had been hermetically sealed, closed to the outside world. Closed to Castiel. Maybe he had just left the institution. Castiel would never know, if that was the case. After all, he didn't know him, he was not a family member. He was only a man with misplaced curiosity.

The irregularities of the door slipped under his knuckles when Castiel put his hand slightly on it.

He had to leave. He had no right to stay there. His fingers had in no way their place on this door. Castiel was going too far, way too far. Only, in a squeaking, the door opened slightly.

Wasn't it locked, as in the recent weeks?

A beam of light appeared on his feet. A light was on and there was someone inside. Since when? The room was empty this morning - Castiel had been unable to help but throw a glance. Was he back? It was necessary for Castiel to be sure of it. This could possibly be stupid or too intrusive, but he couldn't do anything about it, he couldn't help himself.

When Castiel leaned a little more on the door, a thought crossed his mind. Was it really that, this discomfort he had felt during these last days? Were they this closed door and this lifeless room that had made him so sullen during his visits to Anna? Had he already become attached to this patient that he didn't even know?

It was not possible, right?

But when the door opened, a relief shiver ran through his entire body. There he was, sitting on his bed, his head down. A shadow was veiling his face.

Castiel swallowed hard. So it was possible.

He had to leave. Now. Right now. There was no time to lose. Now that he had his answer, as disturbing as it was, Castiel had nothing more to do here. If someone saw him in the corridor, at the door of a patient he did not know, things certainly wouldn't go off well for him. There was maybe no prohibitionsumming visitors to talk only to their own friends or family members, however the staff began to know him, here. They knew very well that all of this didn't correspond to his habits. And Castiel didn't want to be asked questions, to be asked why he was there, in the doorway of this room.

Probably because he didn't know the answer.

It was when Castiel decided to take a step back that a green wave overwhelmed him. Close to absinthe, the shade was dotted with fine golden beads with dancing brown stroke. So that was it, all this time. How could Castiel have forgotten it? The answer to all these questions that had tormented him for days and days seemed so simple now.

This green did have a name. Dean. And he had just raised his head towards Castiel.

There was a sense of déjà vu. Or rather like a flashback, a few weeks earlier. Castiel and Dean had found themselves in the same situation, staring at each other without a word. And Castiel had run away, taking refuge in Anna's room. Maybe he could do the same, now. Run away. To his own house. Away from the hospital. Away from all of this.

Only, his head to the side, Dean whispered:

"You came back."


	4. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And here's the fourth chapter! I was looking forward and scared to write it at the same time. Looking forward because it brings a turning point, afraid because I absolutely needed to not fail Dean's character. This chapter runs and runs through my mind for over a month, theme well established, and that's it, it's written and I finally publish it. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Special Thanks: Thank you grandma, Dupont et Dupont, for her feedback, tips and corrections! She reassured me and gave all full of indications to improve this chapter. Lot of love for her. 
> 
> Thank you to Krohma who now translates this story in English!
> 
> Happy reading!

"You came back."

Castiel froze abruptly. Did Dean really just talk to him or was it all just a dream? Dean's lips had barely moved, like an illusion, a fanciful mirage. As if Castiel was getting a little insane, too. Dean was still staring at him and didn't seem to want to stop. The saliva Castiel had accumulated under his tongue slipped into his throat, laboriously rolling down his Adam's apple.

Was Dean really seeing him?

Back bent, he was a sorry sight in his washed-out hospital uniform, in these clothes that were no longer white for a long time. The shirt and pants were only a grayish tinge fabric of gloominess, a ridiculous get-up too large for him. Dean was wrapped up under the blanket but Castiel was still able to glimpse a piece of thigh enveloped by his trousers and a bare toe that escaped from the fluffy cotton’s thickness. His legs were moving almost imperceptibly under the quilt, distorting from time to time its sinuous folds.

"I wasn't sure I'd see you again."

Therefore it was definitely not a dream. Dean had really talked to him. A panic shiver ran along his whole body. Should he leave? Was it too late now? Castiel had never imagined, not even for a moment, that the patient next room could see him, or even talk to him. He whose eyes were so often lost in the void and whose words had no coherence, he whose mind seemed to be locked in another world, however, was well aware of his presence.

Dean's tongue carefully passed on his lips. They were a bright pink, with light shades of red and purple. A few thin slices of whitish skin sprinkled and tore the flesh, as if they had been mechanically eaten away by Dean in the course of the recent weeks.

Dean's green eyes avoided Castiel's blue when he opened his mouth again.

"The truth is, I wasn't so sure you really existed. Apparently, I'm a bit nutcase."

A laugh rolled down Dean's throat and slipped through his lips. It was a sad laugh. A laugh filled with disillusionment, distress. Castiel wished he could make it disappear and never have to hear the sound that had just tug at his heartstrings.

"Or so, that's what they say. Doctors, shrinks... Even Sammy."

Castiel had already heard that name. Dean had pronounced it numerous times during his fits, during his moments of distress and frenzy. Castiel was convinced that Sammy was actually the young man's brother, that same Sam he had shared a table with a few weeks earlier.

Although he only had moments stolen in the time, only glances casted into the doorway, Castiel felt that Dean was more aware than in previous weeks, more down to earth. He seemed better. Yet, just this thought crossed Castiel's mind, the look of the patient was lost again in the room, staring at a spot lengthily without reacting. His legs stopped moving and his lips froze, motionless. What was he thinking about now? His brother? Purgatory?

"Won't you come in?"

Dean's question snapped into the quiet room and Castiel jumped. He had almost forgotten that the young man was aware of his presence, henceforth. He was looking at him again, his green and golden eyes strolling on his face without ever managing to find a fixed point.

Should he accept? Was this really the best thing to do? They didn't know each other. Castiel didn't come here to visit him. He may saw Garth and Balthazar from time to time but this was different. Yet… Yet Dean seemed to genuinely wanting him in this room, in his room. Castiel didn't feel able to refuse.

Then, slowly, he nodded and placed a foot on the linoleum. He made a first step, a second, a third. Castiel exhaled. He had entered but his back was glued to the door. If he wanted to, he could still run away.

"I don't bite." Dean added with a smile. "At least, I think so. Nurses have never complained about that yet."

Castiel had seen way too many times his cousin enter in a blind rage without reason to know that Dean wasn't trying to be funny with this hazardous sentence. This should have been the moment to leave, to run away. Castiel knew full well: this man could be violent. He had already been. Castiel had lost count of the times he had heard screams, groans and supplications squeeze through the door. What would he do if Dean suddenly changed his behavior? What would he do if he plunged into his rage? He was heavier and more muscled than Anna. Well might Castiel was a police officer, he wasn't sure he could control him.

Yes, really. This should have been the moment to leave. However, Castiel came a little closer and sat in the chair that was located next to the bed.

Dean sat up a little more against the headboard, propping his head against the gray plastic bars. The position seemed uncomfortable, but he didn't change it. As for him, Castiel remained stoic in the chair. He didn't dare to move anymore.

"You're real, aren't ya?"

Castiel's eyebrows knitted, furrowing the few lines that were outlined on his forehead.

"You haven't said a word since you arrived." Dean explained.

"Oh" Castiel replied immediately. "My apologies."

His voice cracked on the words. He cleared his throat and continued.

“Yes, I am real.”

A smile lit up Dean's face. His lips curved, slightly raising his cheekbones where a thousand-one freckles danced between them. They took shape here and there on his tired face, strewn on the bridge of his nose and sometimes on his chin. Straight and fine features were structuring his face, gently highlighting his muscular jaw and his luscious mouth.

Castiel noticed Dean's arm only when it landed on him, at the crown of his head. The touch was brief, delicate and Castiel's breathe had suddenly stopped. Was it normal to react in this way to a simple touch? Dean repeated the experience again and brushed his hair, his fingers sliding this time in the ebony mass. In his eyes, some hint of surprise sprang.

"You didn't lie, you're really here."

With the tips of his fingers, Dean was pressing on his head. He then withdrew his hand and brought it to his brown hair where the pale flashes of the neon shimmered and revealed some golden strands. It was a calloused hand, already tired by life, and so many stories seemed to hide behind the many lines that crisscrossed his palm and finely dug his knuckles. Maybe one day Dean would recount them to him. Maybe. Meanwhile, Castiel couldn't help noticing that, like Anna, his fingernails had been cut short, probably to prevent scratching others or simply hurt himself.

Dean quickly scratched the top of his head before dropping his fist against his stomach, his fingers playing mechanically with the fabric of the quilt.

"Vampires and demons, I can't touch them. The Leviathans either, yet they're the worst. I really don't like them."

Dean's shoulders lifted and lowered in a breath.

"They're here, before me. They want to hurt me, they whisper together. They defy me; they remind me of what I went through. They want to take me back there, I think. And I try to defend myself, to attack them but…"

Dean paused, moistening his lips again. He stretched his arm forward. The t-shirt of his outfit provided by the hospital slid down his biceps, slightly revealing the skin of the young man. The light in the room played with his muscles, enlightening and shading the curves that shaped his arm.

Fist opened, Dean remained motionless for a few seconds as if trying to grasp something in the void, as if seeing something Castiel couldn't perceive. His palm shut, knuckles whitened, before falling on his thighs. His head turned to Castiel.

"Hop. As soon as I touch them, they disappear, like that. Like smoke. Black, black, black smoke."

Castiel swallowed hard. It was so strange to hear Dean talk about his condition as if he made small talk. As if all of this was insignificant. Castiel had never had this kind of conversation with Anna since her internment. It may was for the best.

"We talk too much about me. We always talk too much about me in this room. Dean here, Dean there. How are you, Dean? Feeling better, Dean? Still bonkers, Dean?"

The patient laughed again and let his head fall back. His neck rested a bit more against the plastic bars but he didn't seem to care. Suddenly, he stared at Castiel again.

"Tell me about you. What are you doing here? You don't seem to be crazy like me."

"I visit my cousin, Anna. Like every Saturday."

"She's like me? As bonkers?"

Castiel frowned. Anna was not bonkers. She had suffered a major psychological trauma and her consciousness hadn't been able to recover. Everyone wasn't able to get back on their feet after having suffered a trauma. Everyone wasn't equal in this front. Anna, even if she had always been strong, stronger than him, had failed. Such was life.

"No, she is not "bonkers". And I hate to use that word concerning my cousin."

Dean detached himself from the headboard. His face slowly approached Castiel's, his gaze coming and going from all sides. A faint smell of industrial custard emanated from his parted lips.

"Sorry."

His head tilted on the side and his brows furrowed. Castiel detected in his eyes a slight hint of guilt.

"I didn't mean to be rude, you know. This isn't an excuse but it's just… They put me in solitary confinement for several days, I don't even know how many, they tried another kind of treatment... The one I had before made me completely lethargic. And now I'm lucid. I wonder if it wasn't better when I didn't realize the state in which I was. Sorry I acted like a jerk. Even being crazy, it seems I can't stop that part of me from resurfacing."

So that was it. That was why Dean had noticed his presence. Castiel had understood that Dean's behavior was different from usual. He had never seen him so able to hold a conversation, able to be aware of his surroundings. And now Dean was feeling guilty.

"I didn't take it badly, Dean."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Cool." He whispered.

A new smile lighting up his face, Dean leaned against the headboard again, his eyes staying glued on him. Or, maybe was it more Castiel who wasn't able to look away from these two green orbs.

"I'm glad you're not just another illusion." Dean confessed.

This time, it was Castiel's turn to smile. He wanted to tell him that he was happy to see Dean lucid, to be able talk to him, to get to know him. But the young man had just confided that it was hard for him to get on with it. Guilt swelled in Castiel, ashamed to feel this touch of happiness when he was causing such distress to the man in front of him.

Dean didn't wait for Castiel to reply and asked him again to talk about him, to tell him the details of his life. And as he unveiled the monotony of his existence, Dean's smile widened. Yet, Castiel was far from having an exciting life. He told him about his job with the sheriff. The neighborhood where he lived. His neighbors, whom he vaguely knew the names. He even told him about his bees, those he took great care of at the end of his garden. Dean asked for more, again and again, always a little more. So Castiel talked about his family, his uncles and aunts, his cousins, his brother. At these words, Dean's face had darkened and Castiel had stopped to talk.

"I miss Sammy." He whispered after a long silence. "I haven't seen him for three weeks. The visits were prohibited during my confinement."

"When will he return?"

"On Monday. Visits will be allowed again."

"You still not have the right to have visitors?" Castiel asked, frowning.

"Still not."

"I should probably go, in this case."

Dean blinked several times before lowering his head.

"You're probably right, yes. And it's getting late. The nurses won't be long to come serve me my dinner. Well, if I can name it like that… Damn, that's another disadvantage to be lucid: I am hungry for pie. A beautiful big pecan pie. With a good burger served just before, such as those Ellen prepares at the Roadhouse. Damn, fuck."

Castiel casted a glance at his watch. An hour had passed since his arrival in this room. He put his attention to Dean who had turned toward him.

"Thank you." He said. "That was nice to talk to you. It was a pleasure.... I don't even know your name."

"Castiel. My name is Castiel."

A thought crossed Dean's mind for a few seconds, temporarily cutting him from the rest of the world. With a name like his, Castiel was accustomed to the fact that people react to his name, whether by a laugh or a sign of astonishment. Dean returned to the earth and added:

"You'll come back?"

Castiel left the room a few minutes later, a smile etched on his lips.

The following week found him facing the door again, the same one he had seen for weeks, but had never dared to dwell on it.

And, without thinking twice about it, Castiel knocked and entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: Aaaaand that's it. I hope you enjoyed this meeting! Normally I should start writing the next part next week. See you soon!
> 
> Ellen.


	5. Petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I live in danger. I publish this new chapter while sitting at my desk. Huge madness, I don't know what's going on in my head. Anyway, let's stop doing the pseudo badass. This is the fifth chapter!
> 
> Special Thanks: Today I'm going to do in the uniqueness and thank Dupont et Dupont for her corrections and feedback. You're stuck right? Yeah, me too.
> 
> And thanks to Krohma who continues her quality translation!
> 
> Happy reading!

Splish. Splosh. Drops of water were splashing the polished black shoes as they progressed through the puddles that littered the pavement. Splish, splosh. Another step and undulations were outlined on the fine aqueous dusting where a proud sun shimmered peacefully.

Umbrella under his arm, Castiel looked up. A few anthracite clouds hovered above him, disrupting the blue sky which dominated him. It had rained all night and, despite the lull in the morning, cumulus clouds were still worrying.

Castiel got going again, moving away gradually from Joshua's shop. It had been a few weeks since Castiel hadn't bought two orchids instead of one to the florist. He had stopped when Dean had temporarily left the next room, contenting himself with just taking one for his cousin. And now that he had established a kind of "relationship" with Dean, Castiel had never dared to give one to him. It was one thing to offer flowers in secrecy to a stranger and it was quite another to tell him that whole story.

Today, he was ready.

After all, they saw each other for a month now. Every weeks, Castiel came to visit him after talking to Anna. They both met each other in this white room and Castiel told insignificant details of his life before Dean's enthusiastic eyes.

It was strange. Maybe even a bit unreal. Castiel hadn't told anyone about these little visits that had taken root naturally in his well-oiled routine. Not that he was ashamed of Dean, no. More of himself. Castiel couldn't determine whether his behavior was normal or not in this whole story. He only knew he wanted to continue to see him, to talk with him, to hear him laugh. And if someone told him that he hadn't the right, that it was all off-limits, Castiel wasn't sure he could accept it. So it was better this way. It was better that all of this remains between them.

Drip. A drop crashed on his trench coat. Drop. Another on his right shoe. Castiel sighed and opened his umbrella. Plop. Plop. Plop. The droplets danced, fell, tumbled on the black fabric before disappearing on the asphalt.

When Castiel arrived in front of the Broughton Hospital, the rain was still violently pouring down - his soaked pants painfully testified it. A red car passed by his side, pulling over immediately in the parking lot of the hospital. Castiel watched the vehicle absent-mindedly. A young blond woman came out of the vehicle, her rounded belly protruding from the long gray coat she was wearing. She bent down, looking for something in her car, before slamming the door. The woman put one of her hands on her belly before heading to the hospital. It was at this moment that Castiel recognized her. Jessica.

He wasn't sure she remembered him and their brief meeting in the cafeteria, but that didn't stop him from coming towards her and greet her. With everything Dean had said about her, Castiel had the impression to know her a little bit. The woman blinked, a hint of surprise on her face.

Damn it. He had again acted too hastily. If Gabriel was there, he would certainly laugh at his interpersonal skills way too rusty. Castiel swallowed hard before showing his umbrella with his eyes.

"Oh" Jessica replied, her smile reflecting in her eyes. "Thank you. I forgot mine at home. Since I'm pregnant, I spend my time forgetting my stuff behind me."

She let out a small laugh and her dimples widened, playing with the beauty spots drawn on her milky skin. She finally approached him to shelter from the rain. Castiel smiled.

"You spend your time saving me!" She said when they started walking again.

"What do you mean?"

"First in the cafeteria, now the umbrella. I'll end up being indebted to you."

"Oh, that. It's nothing, really. Don't worry."

The woman replied with a smile. They didn't add a single word until they arrive at the hospital. No sooner the doors had the time to slip in front of them, enveloping them in the warm and stuffy atmosphere of the place, that Dean's brother rushed in front of them.

"I saw your car from Dean's room." He said. "You should stay at home, in your condition you–"

"In my condition, nothing whatever." Jessica retorted immediately. "I'm only at eight and a half months, I still have two weeks and I'm going crazy stuck at home. You're not going to force me to stay locked up in there!"

Sam's face hardened and his lips tightened. So that was his famous bitchfaces. Castiel looked down, embarrassed to participate in the misunderstanding quarrel of the couple, and thought it was time for him to close his umbrella. It would occupy him the time for them to settle their problem.

The fuzzy conversation of the couple rang in his ears when he waved his umbrella on the carpet of the hall, removing as much as possible the drops that had accumulated on the canvas. Castiel put his finger on the button that enabled him to fold the metal rods and pressed it. The rods went slack and Castiel pressed the tip to retract the stick. Once. Twice.

Castiel frowned. The mechanism seemed obstructed. He put his orchids on the carpet and repeated the operation, which had effect of make matters worse, stems writhing in a completely abnormal position. Castiel wasn't of those who swore left and right but he couldn't help muttering a "son of a bitch" under his breath.

Beside him, the couple had stopped talking. Castiel looked up. They were watching him in silence. The Sam's gaze came and went between Castiel, the umbrella and the two orchids.

"Hm. I guess... I guess it's broken." Castiel explained.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a garbage can. He went to it without a word, trying to ignore Jessica's whispers to her companion. He had been ridiculous. Once the umbrella thrown out, and Castiel prayed it wouldn't rain on the way back, he bent down to retrieve his two flowers. He gave a shy smile to the couple before concluding.

"I… I'll go see my cousin now."

"Are you the one who gives flowers to my brother?" Sam blurted abruptly.

Castiel's face darkened immediately. If he had taken a bit more interest in Dean's words, he could have known that they would necessarily end up here.

"Sam is smart." Dean had once explained. "He's the brain of the family. You'd get along with him."

Of course Sam would understand that it was him. Castiel had stupidly laid his orchids at his feet. Of course. And now, because of his stupidity, Castiel would have to reveal this secret. Everything was going to end. Because of him.

"It's not a blame." Jessica added immediately.

"You give flowers to Dean, is that right? Room 42?"

Castiel nodded and a smile lit up the face of younger brother.

"It's just that... I found his room sad when there was no one. I bring one every week to my cousin and I thought that…"

"As Jess said," Sam continued. " I t wasn't a blame. Thanks to this, we thought it was time to decorate his room a little more, you know."

Sam cleared his throat before continuing.

"I think I have always believed, hoped that his stay would be temporary, I didn't really find any interest to adorn all of that. But… He's been here for months. And it's not me who's forced to live every day in this room. I didn't realize he needed it. In short, I wanted to know who was behind that for a moment to thank this person."

Sam held out his hand before adding:

"Thank you."

Castiel shook it and replied that it was nothing and that it had pleased him. Jessica watched the exchange with a smile, a hand gently stroking her belly.

After telling them that his cousin's room was the one next to Dean's, they set off. Sam then told him that he was reassured to know that Castiel was real.

"He's getting better you know." Sam told him. "This recent weeks he has made real progresses. He's lucid most of the time. Dean had been put in isolation for some time and his new treatment works really well. So when he started telling me about you, I thought he was sinking again… That he was imagining new things. Yet, it was different. Usually he only imagines monsters, really atrocious things, and for the first time it was something positive. So… I was confused. But knowing that, yeah, you really came to visit him over the last month, it makes me feel good. It reassures me."

Castiel then asked him if he wasn't mad at him. Sam said that no, he was happy, on the contrary. Castiel didn't go further in the discussion since they had arrived in front of Dean's door. He took a few more steps to get to Anna's.

"If it stops raining we'll go walking in the garden." Jessica informed. "You're welcome if you want."

Once in the room of his cousin, Castiel repeated to himself the conversation he had with Dean's brother again and again, his eyes leaking from time to time to the window.

Anna didn't speak to him the slightest bit today. She didn't notice him when he laid the orchid on her bedside table, nor even when he touched her forehead with his lips. So, when the sun took possession of the sky again, he wondered if he could leave early. If he could accept Jessica's invitation. If he could finally see that famous garden. If he could be a little more with Dean.

The rain had stopped falling for forty minutes when Castiel made up his mind. He kissed his cousin again and left her room. He took a look in Dean's. Empty. Was it too late?

Castiel laid the orchid he had bought for Dean on his bedside table, and then, without waiting a second more, he followed the signage that adorned the gray walls of the corridors. He had never gone to this garden. Anna, her, wasn't authorized to go out and Castiel had then had no reason to come and discover it. Until now.

What if Jessica's proposition was only a polite way to thank him for the umbrella? What if they preferred to be alone, in a family group? These questions agitated Castiel's thoughts when he found himself in front of the bay window leading to the garden of the hospital.

Behind the windows, a huge picture of green in shades of blue, red and yellow stretched before him. The garden was brief, with some paths that criss-crossed the lawn here and there, flowers just budding and trees regaining some colors. A marble fountain sat in its center but did not seem to work for some time - the fallen leaves were still lying in its basins.

In the distance, Castiel caught sight of Dean. He was walking alongside his brother. Jessica was following, a few steps behind them. Castiel opened the door. Jessica noticed him and waved her hand. Maybe he wasn't on the way after all.

Castiel walked slowly toward them. Dean had still not noticed him. Wasn't he going too far? Did Dean want to see him here?

And since when Castiel spent his time asking himself questions?

Before, everything was simple. Ordered. Quiet. Now the entire universe was only a question mark.

"Boys, Castiel is here." Jessica informed.

Dean turned and Castiel's chest contracted immediately.

"Hello Dean." He articulated with difficulty.

"Hey, Cas." Dean replied with a smile.

Castiel felt Jessica's gaze on him. His eyes still anchored in Dean's, he noticed, however, that the young woman decided to take the hand of her partner and resumed walking with him.

"They told me that you'd probably come." Dean continued. "It's cool to see you here. To see you somewhere else than in that damn room."

"It is nice of them for making this proposition to me."

"Yeah." Dean replied simply.

In their turn, they set off. At his side, Dean was walking slowly. Castiel glanced at him occasionally, contemplating the calm and serene look the patient was sporting. Castiel had never seen him being so fine.

"I just love that smell." Dean blurted. "Don't you?"

He turned to him, a smile on his lips. Castiel sniffed and, not smelling much, asked:

"The Petrichor?"

"The Petriwhat?" Dean repeated, stopping on the way.

"The Petrichor. It refers to the smell of the earth after the rain. When soils and rocks have not been in contact with water for a long time, there is a sort of reaction… The smell is mainly due to geosmin, a molecule. The smell is not very strong, the soil was certainly not so dry before the rain last night… But I think I begin to smell it slightly too."

"When I said that you were way too smart for me." Dean replied seconds later.

"I am not." Castiel started, frowning. "I  am not "too smart". And you  are also smart, Dean. There are many things you know and that are unknown to me."

Dean shrugged and set off again. Castiel wondered if he had gone too far.

"However, don't ever use the quotes this way again, Cas. I may be bonkers, but I can recognize what's out of the ark and what isn't."

With a smile, Castiel walked back to his side. In front of them, Jessica and Sam were leading the way, holding hands. Jessica pointed a tree with a finger and Sam laughed heartily.

"Apparently it was you who brought orchids to me."

"Yes." Castiel replied immediately. "I hope this is not a problem."

"No, I found them pretty."

Castiel let out a relieved smile and replied with a chuckle.

"Good." Castiel continued. "Because I brought you a new one today."

"Really?" Dean asked, astonished, his eyes sparkling.

"Really."

Dean's face lit up when a drop of water crashed into his nose. The young man frowned, squinting slightly to contemplate the wet trail that was sliding along his bridge. Drip. A second drop fell on his freckles. Drop, a third.

Castiel turned his head. Sam had removed his coat and was shielding Jessica from the rain while he was leading her to take shelter.

"I think it's time to go." Castiel said, moving towards the door.

"Wait!"

Dean spread his two arms and threw his head back. He didn't seem decided to leave the garden where the downpour was becoming more and more violent.

"You will fall ill." Castiel worried then.

"Enjoy, Cas! Enjoy! We're alive, don't you feel it?"

The drops were falling on him, rolling down his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. His white t-shirt was sticking to his body from second to second. Dean, him, absolutely didn't care. He simply closed his eyes, mouth wide open and let a laughter rolling down his throat. He was so innocent, at this instant. So pure.

And when the nurses went out into the garden to bring Dean in his room, Castiel wondered if he had not just fallen in love with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And boom. That's the fifth chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Ellen.


	6. Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the better author to work with: Ellen BK. Thank you for this story, for your help, your corrections and your love~
> 
> Author's Notes: Here we go for the sixth chapter (originally, it was supposed to be a paragraph. Then it became a chapter.). I'm a live wire for writing this story at the moment. I can't stop. Wouuh!
> 
> Special Thanks: Thanks to the sweetiest of sweetie-beta-friends: Dupont et Dupont. And to the coolest of translators: Krohma

Castiel was feeling good. Serene. Yet the chemical smell of detergent was still hovering in all the rooms of the hospital. Nurses were always the same, in their white and pink gown. It was a Saturday that looked like any other but Castiel was feeling good.

Maybe it was the thought of seeing Dean that put him in such a state. It had been a week now since he had seen the young laugh heartily in the rain, happy to be alive. It had been a week since Castiel had fallen in love. Or had simply realized he was.

Castiel well might not have much experience in this field, he knew he wasn't wrong. That it was well and truly love, this feeling that twisted guts and that made the heart beat. Since Dean was smart, funny, beautiful and good, providing the love he could to the people he cared about. Since Castiel wanted to see him smile and laugh. To hear his voice. To slide his hand through his hair and bathe in this green that made his eyes.

Maybe he was feeling good thanks to the laughter echoing down the corridor. Since they were not forced laughter, laughter to try to forget. Since this were not laughter sweating the patients' anxiety, laughter holding back tears too proud to let themselves flow. No. Those laughter were true. They were tinkling and sincere.

Or maybe was it because, as Castiel had guessed, Dean was receiving visitors today. Since he was surrounded by his family. Since they were all laughing in unison.

Maybe was it quite simply because he knew that Dean was happy.

As he passed their door, Castiel recognized Sam's voice. He paused for a few seconds, a selfish thought crossing his mind. He, too, wanted to enter, to laugh with them. He wanted to witness Dean's happiness. Only, he didn't quite have the right. He wasn't family. So, Castiel was about to resume his walk to find Anna when a voice cut him dead in his tracks.

"Hey Cas! Can you come for a sec?"

A slight shiver ran through his body when he heard these words. Dean had seen him and wanted him to come with them.

Hesitating, Castiel cast a glance through the doorway and saw several pairs of eyes riveted to him. He didn't have much choice, now, did he?

Castiel had barely stepped into the room that Dean spoke again.

"Let me introduce you Castiel, my new friend."

Friend. Dean saw him as a friend. He wasn't the weird cousin of the patient next room. He wasn't the deviant stranger who gave him orchids. Castiel was his friend. One such thing shouldn't have engulfed him with a soft comforting warmth, but Castiel didn't struggle the warm wave that twisted in his guts. He was Dean's friend.

Castiel looked around quickly. Dean was sitting in bed, cross-legged. In his arms stood a shapeless mass of fabric that Castiel didn't succeed to recognize. In addition to Sam and Jessica, Castiel had already seen the other people in the room. He had glimpsed them during his first discrete glances, when he hadn't yet had the courage to give flowers to his friend, to Dean.

"Cas, you already know Sammy and Jess."

The couple waved to him, Castiel replied a smile.

"The old man, there, is Bobby. He's grumpy but we like him anyway."

Dean pointed at a man around fifty years old, with grizzled beard and hair. On his head, an old cap patched and etiolated sat proudly. Bobby slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants and muttered that Dean was an “idjit”. Ignoring his friend's reply, Dean continued and presented him Ellen, a mature woman, but whose eyes sparkled like a teenager. Dean then moved on to Ellen's daughter: Jo. She seemed to be a little younger than Sam, pretty delicate and sweet features drawn on her face. A few golden locks fell here and there on her neck, escaping the quick bun that bound her hair. She was beautiful.

Actually, they were all beautiful.

"Pleased to meet you." Castiel simply answered.

They all smiled to him. Only, with these people he didn't know, Castiel couldn't be completely comfortable. He might be Dean's friend, he nonetheless remained embarrassed by the whole situation. What if they knew? What if they had guessed the true nature of his feelings? Castiel turned his head towards his friend who was watching him and smiling at him. The next moment, he felt better.

"And I still have to introduce you to the most important person of all today." Dean continued.

Castiel frowned, seeing no one else in the room when Dean's eyes looked down on the pile of fabric placed on his legs. So, he moved closer and, after casting a glance at Jessica's belly, he understood.

"Cas, this is Mary. Mary, this is Castiel."

It wasn't a pile of laundry, far from it. Dean was holding a baby. The child of Sam and Jessica. Mary.

"I gave birth earlier than expected." Jessica explained. "It was the same evening that we went in the garden."

"She couldn't wait to meet her uncle Dean." Dean added.

Castiel couldn't help but smile, revealing all his teeth shamelessly. He wasn't of those who went into ecstasies before babies, who made gouzi-gouzis or other nonsensical babblings, but this pink baby a creased head and two to three blond hair battled over her head was a little something charming.

"Uncle." Dean said again in one breath.

One of his fingers slid down on one cheek of the little one.

"You realize, Cas?" He whispered. "I'm an uncle."

Castiel's gaze landed again Dean, his eyes sparkling with a happiness beyond mention.

Jessica put her hand on Sam's shoulder whose head had just bent down and the atmosphere changed within seconds. Dean cleared his throat. Castiel felt in the way.

"You're making a baby blues, Sam?"

"It's just that... That you're here with her. Only a few months ago you didn't even realized that Jessica was pregnant and… Now, yeah, you're uncle."

"Yeah. I know Sammy, I know…"

Sam looked up, his eyes clouded with tears. Was it time for Castiel to leave? To let them alone in family? Castiel was about to open his mouth to say he was going to see Anna now. After all, he had come for that. He shouldn't forget his cousin. But Dean cut him in his tracks.

"Anyway! Can you hold Mary please?"

Sam leaned over the bed and, after having gently put his hand behind the neck of his daughter, took her in his arms and held her against him. Dean turned and grabbed a wrapping that he had hidden behind his pillow.

"Time for gifts!" He exclaimed.

"Dean." Sam started immediately. "You shouldn't have, you–"

"It's not because I'm confined in this room that I'm not going to spoil my favorite niece! Jess, can you take the gift?"

Jessica, astonishment in her eyes, grabbed the present. Castiel noticed the printed smile on the lips of the new dad when she began to tear the paper.

"OK, it's not for right now." Dean justified himself. "They didn't have anything for newborns at the shop."

"I'm sure it will be fine." Sam said softly.

He stared closely at the clothing that Jessica was unfolding before frowning.

"Or... Not... Really Dean? Really?"

Jo and Ellen slipped near Sam to have a better look at Dean's gift and, having exchanged a look, let out a huge grin.

"Come on Sam." Jo replied. "It's too great! I'm jealous, I want the same!"

"I doubt that you fit in it honey." Ellen replied seeing Jo's pout.

Castiel blinked, intrigued by what had just gave Dean. He shifted slightly, trying to cast a glance. In Jessica's hands was a t-shirt for children. The printing was so well done that it looked like it was a little shirt topped by a brown jacket. On the side, a sword was even drawn, as if it was hanging to the clothing. And, in the back, an inscription was written in a handwritten font " _Ahoy, I am a fuc*ing pirate! Arrrr!_ "

"My daughter won't be a "fucking" pirate, no." Sam retorted, lips pursed.

"You aren't funny Sam." Jo sulked.

Beside her, Ellen murmured a few words in the ear of Bobby who let out a deep laugh. Castiel watched the scene, mere spectator of the family show that was being played in front of him.

"There's a little pants that goes with it in the box." Dean added. "And wait, there's more!"

Dean held out another box, smaller this time. Jessica, a suspicious look on her face, grabbed it before opening it.

"Ta-dah! A real pirate headband for Mary, the siren of death… Or Mary, the bloody avenger…"

"Dean" Sam started again. "Mary won't be a pirate thirsty of power and richness. And she won't wear a t-shirt with the word "fucking" on it. Jess, say something."

For only response, Jessica approached her daughter and slipped the headband on her face. The baby blinked and let out an inaudible noise - a saliva bubble burst at the corner of her mouth. The little Mary didn't really understand what was going on.

Sam watched the mother of his daughter without a word and Jessica concluded softly:

"It's true that it's classy."

"Haha! Jessica, I told you that you married the wrong brother! What do you think, Cas?"

What did he think about the fact that Jessica should have been in couple with Dean rather than Sam? Castiel frowned. This question was strange.

"Sam and Jessica are a very nice couple, I'm not sure I understand well…"

"I was talking about the outfit." Dean laughed.

"Oh. Oh... I think it will suit her perfectly. She will really be the niece of her uncle, with her t-shirt and headband."

"See that Sam, even Cas says so."

A teasing smile appeared on the younger's lips.

"Oh well if _Cas_ says so, now…"

Dean suddenly looked daggers at his brother.

"Thank you for the present, Dean." Jessica concluded. "It touches us, despite the unappreciative reaction of the new dad. I hope you didn't have troubles to get this gift."

"You didn't steal it, right?" Jo asked abruptly.

"Hahaha, Jo. Always a joke at hand. I didn't steal anything, know that I owe everything to my charming smile."

Dean raised his eyebrows, apparently trying to woo the young woman who just rolled her eyes in an exaggerated sigh.

"Ah, Dean Winchester, that heartbreaker. Some things never change!"

Dean Winchester. It was the first time that Castiel heard Dean's family name and strangely, it was familiar. Dean Winchester. Where had he heard that name again?

"Castiel, do you want to hold Mary?"

The sweet voice of Jessica took him out of his thoughts. All eyes converged on him. Jessica had proposed this so easily, as if it was normal, as if he belonged also to this room. His saliva hardly rolled down his throat.

"Er, I don't know, I've never, I…"

A hint of panic suddenly overwhelmed him. What if he couldn't do it? What if he did something wrong? He could feel Dean's eyes on him but Castiel didn't dare to face him.

"You won't break her Castiel." Sam reassured him.

"A-all right."

With a smile, Sam approached him. He showed him how to take Mary to properly wedge her neck then left his daughter in the arms of Castiel.

"You can breathe Cas, you know." Dean with a grin.

Castiel gave him a frightened look and all began to laugh. They weren't laughing at him. They were just happy. And Castiel, too, was happy with them.

He didn't keep Mary very long in his arms but it was enough for him to soak up the soft comfort which brought to him the warmth of the infant against his chest. It was such a little being, so fragile, naive, and innocent. She was beautiful and had her whole life ahead. So many hopes to animate. So many dreams to realize. And a family who already loved her more than anything in the world.

His gaze ventured for a few seconds into Dean's who was watching him in silence. Castiel tried to ignore his heart which violently began to pulsate in his chest. It was beating so violently that Castiel wondered if everyone was not able to hear the boom-boom, baboom-baboom that were echoing in his chest.

Mary grabbed Castiel's finger before yawning. He put his attention on her again, contemplating her eyes that grew wet second by second.

"I'll take over." Jessica suggested. "She's exhausted… I'm going home now, Sam. I don't want her to make a fit of tears again like last time or I'll go crazy. And she'll be better at home."

"You're sure?" Sam asked. "I can come to help you, if you want."

"Stay with your brother." The young woman replied, taking Mary in her arms. "I can take care of her on my own and dad goes by home in the evening, don't worry."

"I'll also let you alone." Castiel added.

"Do you have to?"

Castiel turned to Dean. He had leaned his head to the side, a sad pout on his face.

"I must go see Anna. I'm already late."

"Oh. Okay. You'll pop by again after?"

"As always, Dean."

Castiel accompanied Jessica to her car, helping her to move with her stroller in the corridors of the hospital. When he passed before Dean's room again, before the bursts of laughter that never seemed to stop, a smile sprouted on Castiel's face. His gaze caught Dean's for a short time, furtive seconds, almost secret.

And a little later, when he found himself in front of Anna and she asked him how he was feeling today, he replied:

"I feel good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Heeeere we are. The seventh will arrive in about a week. In the meantime, don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it!
> 
> Ellen.


	7. Purgatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: This is the seventh chapter, posted a little earlier than expected. But since it was written and corrected, I told myself I was going propose it to you. After all, the purpose of this story was to not wait too long between each publication. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Warnings: This isn't the happiest of the chapters that I propose here. The atmosphere changes a little. Hard topics are covered in the dialogues.
> 
> Special Thanks: Thank you to Dupond et Dupont for the support, advices and correction. I always say the same thing but it's not my fault she never ceases to be awesome. What can I do about it, huh.
> 
> Thank you to Krohma for the translation in English!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Krohma's notes: as Ellen said, and because there never is enough trigger warnings, this chapter is far from happy. It's dark, and tackles hard topics. So if any of the following warnings possibly triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, then please do not read this chapter.
> 
> Warnings: mention of depression, mention of character death, mention of war, mention of torture, mention of mental outbreak

Dean Winchester. For a whole week, Castiel had repeated and repeated the word to himself in a loop, completely monopolizing his thoughts. Cruel litany, it had never left him for a single moment. The name was tattooed on his skin, steeped in the flesh. Since Castiel knew. He knew he had already seen that name somewhere. He knew that a tragic shadow hovered over him. And Castiel would eventually succumb and scour the web pages of his search engine to finally pinpoint the name that haunted him.

Dean Winchester.

And, the following Saturday, when he found himself at the gates of Broughton Hospital, it was already done. Castiel stood before the door for long minutes. Dozens, perhaps. He didn't see the time passing. He didn't even try to count it. The sweaty and smelly air of the hospital rushed into the parking lot by irregular intermittence as visitors entered and left the establishment, while the doors slid and ran, hissing continually before him. Castiel, wasn't moving.

He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. Courage, maybe. A nudge, a hand in his back. A step forward. Now that Castiel knew, that he understood why Dean had fallen into such a state, into such insanity, he wouldn't be able to pretend. Castiel couldn't lie to him, make him believe he was still out of the secret, out of this darkness. No, he simply couldn't.

A sob bursted. Castiel slowly turned his head. A woman was biting her lips and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Beside her, what seemed to be her daughter was looking at her with large round eyes, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to the side and whispered "Mommy? ", clutching her dress. Her mother forced a smile before taking the hand of the little one.

Castiel had eventually forget how this place could be sad at times and the doors were still brushing the floor, dancing with the comings and goings of men and women.

"Castiel?"

The voice broke the show. Castiel turned round and faced the younger Winchester. Sam Winchester. Dean Winchester's brother.

"You okay dude? Why are you standing here? Don't you want to go in?"

"Dean Winchester." He replied stupidly in one breath.

Sam's face darkened straight back. His face was drawn and tired, worn out by the sleepless nights certainly imposed by the little Mary. Castiel noticed that Sam's Adam's apple rolled under the thin layer of skin that protected his neck, as if he had just swallowed hard. Castiel did the same immediately. His mouth was dry.

"You know who he is, right?" Sam asked. "Where he comes back from?"

Slowly, Castiel nodded. Sam reached into his long hair before releasing a sigh.

"I knew this would happen. I'd told him it'd be better for him to say all of it to your face. Can you keep it for you a little while longer? I don't know how he'll react when he'll find out that you're in the know. I fear he might panic, that he might relapse…"

Castiel frowned.

"Why would he panic?" He asked. "That whole… None of this was his fault."

"I'm fully aware of that Castiel." Sam sighed. "But you're starting to know Dean and also… I fear that if he plunges back into those memories he might… That he falls appart, you see? Now, the doctors say he'll get better, that he's on the right track…"

Sam once more passed his hand nervously through his hair. His tongue quickly passed over his lips, as his big brother did so often.

"Look, what do you say we go in the garden? I don't really want to talk about it here."

A few minutes later, they sat on a bench that faced the fountain. Castiel let his gaze wander over the little park, focusing on the color shades that budded here and there, licking on both sides the picture that stood before him.

And Sam started.

The name of John Winchester quickly came in the discussion. Sam spoke of his depression after the loss of the love of his life, Mary. Of his expectations toward Dean. Of his resentment and anger that had never really subsided.

"And Dean." Sam explained. "Since he was little, was clinging to this noxious idea. Dad, dad, dad. He had to make him proud. He needed to, you know? Just like he always had this need to protect me from everything. It was vital for him. And I… I left. I slammed to door. I was only eighteen when I did it, but I had long known that the presence of my father in my life was toxic. So I ran away. I ran away to Stanford. And Dean, he went down there. To make him proud. With hindsight, I wonder sometimes if it wasn't his own way to run away, eventually."

Sam then spoke of the desert, of the sand fields and the dunes perfume. Before the eyes of Castiel, the clouds dispersed and the atmosphere, suddenly rough, crackled. The leaves and flowers crumbled, dispersed, flew away, and green became gold.

Then the word "war" slammed in the air. Afghanistan. The weapons and the bloodshed in the name of freedom. And the gold wasn't so sparkling finally. It was fierce, biting, burning.

"Then dad died." Sam blurted.

Cas tilted his head to the side, stealthily catching Sam's eyes. In his eyes was still lying dormant the bitter emptiness that his father had left behind him, in addition to two orphans already tired by life.

"Dean came back for a few days. He'd got a leave. We hadn't seen each other for a year and a half. I think that's when I saw him coming towards me, in his damn military outfit, that I realized how much I had missed him. We… We caught up. I introduced him to Jessica. He was happy for me. He spoke of Benny, his new friend. We were good. We had both just buried our father six feet under but… Yeah. We were good. And then he went back."

A sad laugh slightly shook Sam's body. He ran his hands through his hair, his fingers intertwined in his long brown strands.

Sam explained that despite everything, Dean and he had stayed in contact. They sent letters to each other regularly. They were getting to know each other again. Quietly. Safely. Sam knew that Dean didn't tell him everything. They almost never talked about the war, about life out there. His older brother especially spoke to him of Benny, making fun of his friend and of the photo of his wife, Andrea, that he never separated from. He also talked about the food he ate, everything was bland or too spicy, too hot or too cold. He told him that he missed the rain, that down there it was too nice and too hot. That he missed the rain.

"But he had never told me for the rest." Sam specified. "For what you know… It only sufficed that one day I realized that I hand't received a mail for three weeks. I knew at that moment that there was a problem. Only a week later I received an official letter. There had been a problem with Dean's squad."

Sam's breathing quickened slightly. Frowning, he was staring at the ground, seeking an invisible point lost on the dirt road.

"His corporal, Alastair, he… He was mad. Totally insane. I don't understand how he could raise to such a rank. Or even just join the army. I don't understand. I mean… Don't you have to pass psychological tests, or that kind of stuff? How could they let such a psychopath in? He… He had led all his company to a sort of… I don't know. He just led them to torture, saying it was normal, that it was what the United States expected and that if they didn't consent to it would be worse than deserting. I don't understand how he had his way for no one to say anything, for no one to revolt, because… In the end, everyone listened to him, you know? Yet it was still torture, I don't know, I…"

Sam bit his lip before raising his face to Castiel. He seemed so lost, there, with his moist eyes and his reddened lips. It was as if he was afraid. Afraid of his reaction, of Castiel's. As if he was judging.

"You know, Dean was a fireman before he… He enlists in the army. He was a firefighter, he wanted to help others. Extinguish fires, saving people. That was his personal business. And that was good. He was good. He isn't someone who tortures. He's not someone who wants to hurt…"

"Sam, I–"

At these words, Castiel's throat tightened violently. He raised his fist to his mouth and coughed slightly, trying to regain some composure.

"Of course I had heard of this affair, as everyone. I had listened to the journalists talking about this story in which a soldier had been found alone in the desert, left there for several days and still clinging to the remains of one of his comrades. I had seen the headlines. They spoke of Alastair and the sick game he had set up. They evoked his maneuvering. It was awful. It was morbid. But the guilty were dead, then America considered that justice had been dispensed. There was nothing more to add. Everyone had moved on something else. I moved on something else."

A shy smile appeared on Sam's lips and Castiel's heart twitched painfully. He didn't deserve that smile. Castiel had been like any other. A sheep that had failed to go beyond the news spewed by the almighty journalists.

Castiel spoke again.

"When I heard his name, when I made the connection and when I saw that all of that, that this story was more than ink on the newspaper delivered in the morning, much more than a topic of discussion among colleagues over coffee during a break, I needed to know. To understand."

"Don't feel guilty, Castiel. When you don't know the people, it's hard to feel involved. If my brother hadn't been dragged into this story, I don't know if I'd have done more than you."

Sam took a deep breath and, eyes turned to the ground again, he continued to talk to Castiel. He explained how Alastair had cut off any connection between the soldiers and their families to better isolate them, how he had taught them all the torture techniques without ever detailing them. Castiel knew that Sam wasn't telling him everything, that he was sparing the most sordid details. The youngest Winchester then told him what Castiel already knew. Dean and Benny had tried to escape to warn another squad. They had been captured by the Taliban, who had immediately recognized them. They were tortured in their turn. Again and again until they manage to escape. Alone in the desert. Without the slightest supplies. Without the slightest drop of water.

Benny had kicked the bucket.

"And Dean wasn't far behind him." Sam enunciated.

Castiel sniffled, heart stuck in the throat. His eyes were burning.

"They brought him back here." Sam continued. "And… At first, I didn't understand that he wasn't well. Yes, he drank a little more. Yes, he didn't talk. But after what he had experienced it was normal, right? He saw a shrink but didn't speak to him. No one could really tell that he was so affected at that moment. Then he started… To have outbreaks. PTSD or whatever. But it was more than that. He didn't think he was there anymore. He had altered his memories. The psychiatrist explained to me that it was for him a way to protect himself from the outside world. It was easier to believe that all this violence, all this hatred, wasn't human. It was just not possible for him. It had to be something else. Demons. Vampires. Ghouls. To name but a few. Afghanistan had then become his purgatory where all the worst species languished with him."

"And that's why you had to take him here?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah. At first I didn't want to. He's my brother. I wanted to be there for him. To take care of him as he used to take care of me before. It was my job. But, Jessica was pregnant. And his outbreaks were becoming more and more violent… I couldn't help him. And in the end, it was for the best, right? He made much progress here. His doctors speak of "resiliency". He learns to start over. To overcome the shock. It's a psychological thing. He already had it in him and all it took was a little help for him to get on the road to recovery."

"Therapies and treatments certainly helped." Castiel approved.

"Not only." Sam replied after a slight hesitation. "I don't know if I'm wrong but… I don't know how to phrase it. What do you feel for Dean?"

Castiel's heart had a malfunction. How had this conversation drifted on this topic? Where was Sam driving at?

"What do you mean?" Castiel finally managed to ask.

"I mean… He's your friend, right? He's not just a patient that you help like that? It's not just your good deed of the week?"

"Oh. Yes. I do consider him as a close friend, now. I really appreciate him."

"Ok. So I'll continue with what I really think. I think you helped him, Castiel. Before he only spoke of purgatory, again and again. Then there were the orchids, this new element. After, he calmed down. No more violence. Nothing. His doctors took the opportunity to change his treatment and he stopped living in this world he had created. He still hallucinates but he realizes, he knows they don't really exist. Then you talked to him. Dean told me your conversations. You opened him a window into our world. An exit door. For the first time since his return, I finally saw him smile. And I know you have something to do with this, Castiel. The brain is a so complex organ, and I must admit I don't always understand everything when the doctors tell me about my brother's condition, but if there's one thing I know: that smile was genuine. It was for us, for our world, our reality. And all this, is thanks to you."

Castiel gulped. Was Sam right? Had he been a help to Dean? With his flowers? His simple presence? Only a few months ago, they had yet never spoken to each other. And if Dean hadn't talked to him, hadn't said "you came back", Castiel would never have made a step towards him. Could he really be that man that Sam was describing?

The Winchester stared at him with his sparkling eyes and concluded:

"Believe me, Castiel."

And, finally, Castiel believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And that's it for today. Thank you for reading this chapter and continuing this story! See you soon!
> 
> Ellen.


	8. Lemon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: It's between two yawns that I publish this sour chapter to you. Thank you all to continue to follow this story. It really makes me happy and it motivates me even more to keep going. I hope it will continue to please you!
> 
> Special Thanks: Kisses to Dup' & Dup' for her correction and kind words! And her sympathetic ear tonight.
> 
> Kisses and thanks also to Krohma!
> 
> Happy reading!

"I have something for you."

Dean looked up, surprised, as if he hadn't heard Castiel enter his room. Perhaps had he been too concentrated in his reading to notice the "knock-knock" Castiel had made resonate a few seconds earlier. Dean gently put his book on his lap before plunging his green sparkling eyes in Castiel's.

"Really?"

A hint of surprise perceived a shadow of astonishment in his voice. Putting weight to his arms, he sat up in his bed. His eyes went back and forth on Castiel's face, as if trying to decipher him, to understand him.

Castiel didn't know if his friend was amazed by his surprise or by his mere presence here, in this room.

Was Dean mad with him for not coming the previous week? After his discussion with Sam, Castiel had gone directly into his cousin's room and visiting hours were over when he had come out. He hadn't been able to see Dean.

Probably because he had waited until the last moment.

"I brought the dessert." Castiel explained.

A sly, almost contemptuous grin took shape on Dean's lips who let out a small laugh. His mind and his thoughts seemed to have escaped somewhere else, in a place that Castiel didn't know. He frowned. Dean had an odd reaction. Desserts were maybe pleasurable but they weren't so funny. With his right hand, he advanced the paper bag, placed it before him and added:

"It comes from the Roadhouse."

Dean didn't take his eyes off Castiel, a strange glint in his eyes.

"I gotta admit that, for a few seconds, I thought you were naked under your trench coat."

Castiel felt his eyebrows frown again. Where was Dean driving at? It was far too cold to be naked under a coat and even so, he wasn't some sort of exhibitionist who showed his genitals to whoever he pleased. Was that the image Dean had of him? Did he really see him as a pervert?

"I… No, I.." Castiel stuttered. "Why should I be naked under my coat?"

Suddenly, Dean seemed embarrassed. He raised his fist to his mouth and sniffed. Then, he stared at Castiel again and continued, trying to justify himself:

"Well you know… It's just… It would have been you, the dessert. It's… Fuck, I'm digging my own grave."

Dean's words had no sense now. Castiel wasn't a dessert. He wasn't edible. Although in a way yes, he could be because he was made of flesh and muscles like animals but it still didn't turn him into a dessert. Was Dean thinking he was back to purgatory? Were there cannibals traditions in this world he had imagined?

"I am not sure to understand what you're talking about." He replied, hesitantly.

"You don't watch porn or what?" Dean asked with a desperate look.

Castiel was less and less understanding this conversation.

"Only once, there was a pizza man and a babysitter… But I didn't really enjoyed it. I, hem. I don't understand your point, Dean…"

Dean ran a hand over his neck, hiding as he could the light redness that were pigmenting his skin. Castiel made no comment. What was going on in this room was sufficiently odd like that.

"Ok, ok, Cas. Don't worry, it was just a joke all of… That. Just a damn lousy reference to porn. Sam might not be wrong when he says that I have an awful humor."

His eyes were shifty and his tongue gently passed on his lips.

"Being "someone's dessert" is just a sexual innuendo." He explained. "I wasn't really imagining that you… Anyway. Let's forget it."

"Oh." Castiel replied. "All right."

Castiel wasn't sure he had quite understood what Dean meant but couldn't help but be reassured. If all of this was only just another reference he couldn't understand, this also meant that Dean was fine, that he wasn't sinking again.

Castiel approached him and put the paper bag on the chair that was beside Dean. He unbuttoned his coat, folded it and placed it on the edge of the bed. Dean turned his eyes on Castiel's bag, visibly intrigued.

"You said it's from the Roadhouse? You know this place?"

"You had told me about it." Castiel explained. "You had told me you missed it. I thought that since I hadn't come last week, I was going to bring you a little something."

"Seriously? Dude, you're awesome. What did you take?"

"Hm, I hope I didn't mistaken. Ellen assured me that you loved them so…"

He pulled the pie off the paper bag before sitting on the edge of the bed, a few inches away from Dean's thighs. He looked up and watched his friend who discovered the slice of pie Castiel was offering. His gaze was suddenly illuminated, golden hues dancing in his green eyes. In a murmur, he whispered:

"Pecan pie? Like really? For me? Damn Cas, what did I do to deserve you?"

Castiel replied with a smile, happy to see Dean pleased with his surprise.

"You didn't take some for you? You wanna taste? I can give you a piece if you want."

"Thank you Dean but I'm allergic to nuts."

"Oh." His friend said with a sad look. "Too bad."

Dean swallowed a first bite with an ecstatic look before explaining that he ate alone every day since he was interned in the hospital, and that the tête-à-tête with the TV screen weren't funny. Then, the conversation drifted to his daily life conditions, his group therapy and his appointments with doctors. He didn't spoke of his past. Castiel did the same, respecting Sam's requests. Dean then told him about his walks, his meetings and his readings – Dean was currently immersed in Vonnegut. About his boredom, too. Castiel listened to him dreaming of his life after, his life outside these walls. Dean seemed to have faith in himself, faith in his recovery.

"There are so many things I'd like to do but as long as I'm here, as I'm ill, I can't. And it's starting to weigh upon me, you know. I can't wait to leave."

Dean didn't really know when he would be able to leave the hospital. He hadn't raised the subject with the doctors for fear of being too eager. Listening to him talk about his desires, his dreams and his new hopes, Castiel wondered if he would have a place in the new life of his friend. If he would continue to see him. Castiel wanted to. Only, if Dean refused it, he would understand it completely. If Dean wanted to forget about the hospital, about his memories here, about Castiel, then he would make do. If Dean needed that to move forward and build his future, Castiel would let him do, without any hesitation.

Then a smile on his lips, Castiel listened to him until he had to leave, the visiting hours ending far too quickly to his liking. After saying goodbye to Dean, he offered:

"If I come to see you before my visit to Anna on next Saturday, I could bring you a lunch. If you wish to. Ellen told me that it was also possible to have to-go burgers, I think."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course, Dean."

"Cool! I'll eat the least possible of their damn meal tray. It won't change from usual, you'll say, but hey, then it'll be for a good cause!"

"It is understood then. See you next Saturday, Dean."

"See ya Cas. And thanks. For the pie. And for… You know."

Castiel replied with a smile. He knew.

And it was with this same smile still clinging to his lips and a warm paper bag pressed against his chest that he knocked again at Dean's door the following Saturday. Dean inhaled a great puff of air, seeming to soak up the sweet smell of warm burgers that emanated in the room.

At this vision, Sam's voice echoed in Castiel's thoughts and it's light-hearted that he walked toward Dean's bed.

_Believe me, Castiel._

"Hey, Cas!" Dean exclaimed.

"Hello, Dean."

"You didn't forget our appointment." His friend, who couldn't help smiling, went into ecstasies.

"I heard your stomach roar of hunger as soon as I entered the building." Castiel replied, getting the burgers out of the bag. "I even think that the whole town knows that you're expecting these burgers. I couldn't forget you."

As usual, Castiel sat on the edge of the bed. Dean bended his legs slightly more to give him some space and accepted the burger that he handed him. He lightly stroked the paper wrapping it, as if he couldn't get over the fact he had it in his hands.

"You have no idea how much I missed that, Cas. It's been months, years, since I've eaten those."

"They are a bit tepid now." Castiel specified. "It wasn't nearby. I took the car to do as quickly as possible, but–"

"It's perfect Cas, really. It's perfect."

Castiel didn't say anything more and watched Dean opening the package before biting into the burger, eyes closed. He let out a sigh of contentment. On his face Castiel could read happiness, the true one. His heart swelled at this vision. He was proud of Dean. Proud of his evolution, of his recovery. Proud to love a strong man like him.

Dean opened his eyes and stared at Castiel without saying a word, without moving only even one eyelash.

"You don't eat?" He asked after long seconds.

"Oh, yes. Excuse me."

Dean chuckled softly before resuming the tasting of his burger. Castiel took his, withdrew the paper that wrapped it and munched in the bread in his turn. A chewy softness stroked his tongue and his palate as his teeth dug into the burger. It was a fireworks. The caramelized onions, the roasted peppers and the melted cheese were exploding from all sides in his mouth. The meat juice and the tomato slices were running and gliding over his tongue and down his throat. His palate was invaded by a thousand flavors, each just as exquisite as the next. Yes, really. It was a real fireworks.

Castiel swallowed his mouthful before opening his eyes. Obviously, he had also closed them. Dean was looking at him, impatient.

"So?" He asked.

"These make me very happy." Castiel answered before thrusting his teeth into the burger again.

They ate in silence, enjoying every bite they literally devoured. When nothing remained but a few crumbs in the pieces of paper, Dean let himself fall against the headboard.

"She doesn't do things by half with the quantities." Dean said after releasing a long sigh.

"I may shouldn't have brought a dessert." Castiel agreed.

Dean raised his eyebrows. Not wanting to mislead him again with his words, Castiel quickly added:

"A real dessert."

Dean cleared his throat and red spots slightly colored his neck. There was clear evidence that his friend was still embarrassed by the discussion of the week before. Castiel might should have inform him that Dean was an adult entitled to watch pornographic movies if he wished to, that Castiel wouldn't judge him about it. He might should. Now, it was probably too late. It was better to change the subject.

"Ellen insisted that I take only a slice, I understand why now. She told me it would be more than enough for both of us. She didn't have pecan pie, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it might be my favorite pie but I also like other types of pie, don't worry Cas. It's already awesome what you did there. I don't know how to thank you. Anyway… What did you take?"

"A slice of lemon pie."

"Awesome!"

"Do you like it?"

"Hell yeah, Cas."

Castiel took the paper bag and pulled out the pie before going back rummage into it, frowning.

"Problem?" Dean asked.

"Ellen gave us only one spoon." Castiel answered, continuing to look inside the bag. "Yet I had specified that it was for you and me, I don't understand."

Frustrated, Castiel crumpled the bag and placed it next to him.

"It's no big deal, ok? I ain't contagious yanno."

Castiel swiftly turned his head toward Dean, eyes wide. A sense of dread swirled in his veins, turned in his heart and his chest compressed painfully.

"I didn't– It's not what I meant."

"Cas. I was joking. I really need to stop with my jokes. Sorry."

Castiel's heart calmed down slightly.

"I am the one to apologize, Dean, I have a tendency to take everything litterally."

"Come on, let's taste this pie."

Dean took the plastic container that protected the pie in his hands before opening it carefully. He then grabbed the plastic spoon and dipped it into the amber yellow cream. Castiel watched his every move as if this was a sacred ritual. After all, pies seemed to be a religion for his friend.

"Say aaah."

"Excuse me?"

"If you want a piece," Dean explained calmly. "Open your mouth and say aaah."

Castiel blinked. Dean lost patience and ate the mouthful he had cut.

"Damn, this is good. You don't know what you're missing, buddy."

He shoved the spoon back into the pie before putting it in front of Castiel's mouth. A sweet smell emanated from it and even if he wasn't hungry after the burger he had swallowed, Castiel wanted, needed, to taste this dessert. He opened his mouth, ready to snap up the spoonful.

His teeth chattered into the void and in front of him, Dean had just swallowed his piece. Castiel's. The one that should have been in his own mouth.

"You didn't say aaah." Dean said as if that justified everything.

And, after having cut another bite, he handed the spoon back to Castiel's mouth.

"Say aaah." He repeated.

"Aaah." Castiel finally resigned himself but couldn't help but feel like an idiot.

Only, when the spoon entered his mouth and his lips closed around it, he didn't regret for a single second what he had just done. The acidity of the lemon tickled his taste buds and the sweetness of the topping appeased his tongue. The flavor was dizzying, intoxicating. The sweetcrust pastry was crumbling against his teeth, mingling with the lemon cream, before rolling down his throat.

A moan of pleasure escaped his lips when Dean pulled the spoon out of his mouth. His green eyes hadn't left him a single instant.

Dean straightened slightly on the mattress. He seemed uncomfortable. His friend swallowed hard before slightly look away.

"Is everything all right, Dean?"

"Yeah." He replied with a voice hoarser than usual. "Yeah, I'm good."

Castiel frowned. They finished the pie, alternating each bite and Dean no longer tried to feed him like a child. Something had changed but Castiel didn't manage to determine what.

A few minutes later, voices filled the corridor. Castiel recognized Jo's, Ellen's daughter. He had seen her a few hours earlier, when he had dropped by the Roadhouse. She had seemed happy to see him there, as if he was a friend of the family, as if he was accepted in this place.

"I'll go." Castiel announced then.

Dean's face slightly changed. He looked at him without saying a word. In the space of a second, Castiel had the impression that his friend was going to ask him to stay with him, with them. But his expression quickly returned. He nodded with a smile.

Sam knocked on the door and Castiel heard Jo whisper: "I told you we were coming too soon" when she saw him. Sam and Jo were looking at them as if they were intruders in this room. Only they were Dean's family. Castiel was the one who had to leave.

"Don't worry, I was on my way out. I leave Dean in your hands, I have to go see my cousin now."

In a few controlled gestures, he put on his coat, greeted them quickly, picked up the papers, the container and the bag he had brought with him and made a wave of his hand to Dean who was still smiling.

When he left Dean's room, a strange bitter taste was stagnating in his mouth. And Castiel knew it was not due to the burger. Nor even to the lemon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: See you soon for more! I don't really know when it'll arrive. I've made good progress in the writing in any case. Thank you all to continue to follow me in this adventure.
> 
> Ellen.


	9. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And hup, the ninth chapter. We approach the end, my friends!
> 
> Special thanks: Thank you to Dupont et Dupont who works hard tonight and to whom I wish good luck! With much love, too. Thank you sweetie.
> 
> Thank you to Krohma who floods me with enthusiasm in my mailbox :)
> 
> Happy reading!

Castiel's phalanxes slipped into his hair, brushing his skull, weaving in and out each of his strands. He lightly massaged his scalp, his nails scratching the skin and hooking in his hairline.

Castiel had decided to put his feelings aside. He had perhaps not particularly exposed them during the last few days - not even when he had realized that his affection for Dean went beyond simple friendship - but this strange feeling he had experienced when he had left the room of his friend a week earlier had sufficiently disturbed him for Castiel to feel a certain form of danger into it. He had no right to feel this way. Whether it was jealousy or a simple desire to share more moments with Dean, these feelings didn't have a place in this hospital where everything was already complicated enough. They didn't need his futile qualms. Far from it. It wasn't what was going to help Dean getting better.

Castiel had to be a good friend for Dean. This was all that mattered.

His palm left his hair before landing on the handle of his room. The door was ajar, he only had to push it. Castiel loudly cleared his throat to signal his presence when he entered the room.

Standing by the window, Dean didn't move.

Castiel stepped forward softly, his steps brushing the too clean floor of the room.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey."

Castiel slipped to Dean's sides and looked in his turn through the window. It overlooked the parking lot of the hospital. Rows of gray, blue and black cars dotted the tarmac. Some white and red anomalies were outlined here and there, illuminating slightly the sad decor of this picture that stood before them. Castiel turned his head to Dean. His face was hard. Something was wrong.

"I talked with Sam today." Dean announced.

"Is there a problem with Jessica?" Castiel asked immediately. "Is Mary all right?"

"They're fine, yes."

"What's going on, Dean?"

Dean turned to him. The grays radiances of the sky shimmered on his face, highlighting the tired features digging his skin.

"I just don't understand why... Why you–"

Dean stopped short, unable to continue his sentence. He stepped back slightly and sighed deeply. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. What was going on? Had Dean anything to reproach him? What Sam had told him?

"Dean?"

Castiel's head leaned to the side. He wanted to move forward, to get closer to Dean. But the latter had put a distance between them voluntarily. Castiel resigned himself, he didn't have the right.

"Dean, talk to me. Help me to understand. I can maybe help you. I can try to."

"You know my past Cas." Dean retorted with difficulty. "You…"

Oh. So that was it. Sam had told him. Castiel swallowed hard. Part of him was annoyed with the younger Winchester. He who had asked Castiel to remain silent, to not talk to Dean about it, had done it behind his back. He who had asked him to lie had just revealed everything without having a single word with him about it before doing so.

"Sam wanted me to tell you about it." Dean explained. "He told me it was time for you to know, that you had the right to. And… Yeah, he wasn't wrong. We're friends now, right? But I was just afraid that… That you take it badly. And that's when he told me everything. How you…"

Dean took a deep breath and didn't say another word. His gaze was plunged in Castiel's. Piercing. Harrowing.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I–"

"I tortured people." Dean dryly interrupted him. "I killed people. I… Benny died because of me. He hadn't tortured anyone. He didn't go in Hell. That was me. Only me. And yet they… They hurt him too."

Castiel frowned. The discussion was taking a completely different aspect from what he had imagined. Why was Dean talking about himself? About his past?

"I know what you're gonna tell me, that I've never been in hell, I've not been in purgatory, that all that crap was bad luck or whatever but… Fuck! In these two realities, whether mine or yours is true, there's a common factor in case no one had noticed: I tortured. I killed. And you, you, you just…"

Dean seemed to be searching for words. Castiel opened his mouth, not really knowing how to respond to the flood of words spilled by Dean. Of all the times they had both talked here in this room, Dean had never been as effusive. It was the first time he was talking this much, that he was really opening his heart, his history, to Castiel.

"You, you show up with a fucking pecan pie, Cas."

Dean nibbled his lips before turning his head toward the window. Castiel didn't understand the reproaches Dean was making. Why wasn't he telling him that he had no right to pry into his private life? To talk about him with his brother? To conceal the truth? That was what he should be telling him, what he should be throwing in his face. Not that pie business.

"Fuck. You bring me a full lunch the following week, you look at me with those eyes, those fucking blue eyes, as if I was some kind of hero or something, as if I could be forgiven, as if I could be loved. And I, all this time I was convinced that it was just that you didn't understand, that you didn't know who I was, that… And you knew, Cas! Damn it, you knew. Why?"

"Dean." Castiel, whose voice cracked slightly, started. "I don't know where to start. I know I shouldn't have, I–"

"Why do you keep being so nice to me, Cas? Why don't you run away? I told you I was crazy, that I was… And it's not just because of my condition here. It started well before. It started when I dragged out that fucking first cry of pain!"

"Dean."

Castiel's gravelly voice slammed into the room and Dean paused immediately. Castiel took a step toward him, much more confident now. Dean noticed and seemed to hesitate before lowering his head. His breathing was short and jerky. Castiel's was calm and controlled.

He guided his hands to Dean and put them on his shoulders. His fingers slowly caressed his shirt before sliding along Dean's neck. Gently, he placed them on his chin and raised his head. His green eyes were too wet, blurring the mischievous sparkle that once resided there.

"Dean." Castiel repeated. "You must not blame yourself for what you did there. You've been manipulated by a psychopath, like all the others. Anyone would have sunk because of his perverse methods. But you, Dean Winchester, you've been able to go over it all. Don't you realize it? You told it to Benny. You told it to someone who wasn't aware. And both, you fled to prevent other squads. You wanted to change things. You wanted to save more lives. You wanted all of it to stop. You're a hero. I don't think you're one, you  _are_ a hero."

Dean put his hand on Castiel's, forcing him to remove them from his chin. Castiel let them fall down his body and Dean looked outward. He did not seem to want to face his eyes.

"No, Castiel. You don't know me. I'm broken, I'm…"

Dean's voice trembled slightly at the words and Castiel felt a heaviness in his stomach.

"I know you Dean. You… You are attentive to others. Full of good intentions. You care about the ones you love. You're among those who try to make others laugh so they forget their pain. I know you took care of Sam when you were still a child yourself. You're proud of him, proud of Jessica, proud of Mary. You love your friends. You would do everything for them. You made me feel comfortable when I met them for the first time because you knew it wasn't easy for me. You pay attention to all those little details that can help others. You're smart. You don't realize it but you are. You take care of things, care of people. You're funny. You have an erudition that is beyond me. You aren't afraid of change. You're strong, Dean. You are so strong. You fight every day to get better. I feel it every week, whenever I come back here. I see how you managed to change in only seven days. I see that you're getting better, that you're close to your goal. I see all of this, Dean. I see you. So please, don't tell me I don't know you."

Instinctively, Castiel put his hands on Dean's. He took a step forward, slightly closer to his friend who seemed resolutely determined to not stare at him.

"Please."

Dean turned to face him and, without warning, opened his arms, stepped forward and encircled Castiel. The head of his friend rested on his shoulder and his hands slipped into his back, clinging to the trench coat Castiel still hadn't removed.

Castiel had no idea what to do. He wasn't of those who embraced the others, who were tactile, who spoke through touch. He couldn't even remember the last time he had taken someone in his arms. It was certainly with Gabriel. He was the only of his family who dared this kind of display of affection. He was also the only one with whom he got along well enough to accept such a gesture since, now, Anna couldn't anymore.

Could he accept this from Dean? Was he able to? He who had no idea what to make of these two arms hanging stupidly down his body?

Dean's grip became a bit stronger, as if he needed Castiel, his presence. So, without thinking a second longer, he imitated his friend and encircled in his turn. His fingers slipped on the fabric, touching the warmth of Dean's body.

A sigh escaped of his lips despite himself.

Castiel appreciated the contact. The weight of his friend against his body, his arms around his waist, his fingers trapped in his clothes. He felt good there, flooded with Dean's warmth and affection.

"All right Cas." He whispered. "All right."

His hot breath slid down the neck of Castiel who gripped Dean a bit tighter against him. In his turn, he put his neck on Dean's shoulder, fitting into the hollow of his neck. Dean's hands slipped into his back, rewarding him with some warm brushes, some affectionate caresses.

Castiel didn't know when that time would disappear for only become a memory, so he took advantage of it as much as he could, soaking up all the sensations he was feeling, this touch that intoxicated him.

When they parted, Dean pointedly avoided eye contact with Castiel. He walked to his bed and sat on the edge. Castiel stood motionless in front of Dean.

His friend told him with some vague details how the little Mary was. Apparently she acted up and prevented her parents to sleep. They were beginning to have a terrible lack of sleep. Sam could hardly stand up and from what Dean explained to him, Jo had driven him to the hospital.

Dean then told him about the book he was reading at the moment and Castiel listened in silence, although he would have preferred to continue their conversation. He still didn't know if Dean had understood that he had to stop feeling guilty like that.

When Castiel left Dean's room, he still didn't have the answer to his question.

The following weeks were odd. Something had changed between Dean and him. Castiel had quickly noticed it. It wasn't because of their "argument". Dean and he had never talked about it again. It was something else. It was physical.

When Castiel sat on the bed of Dean, the latter didn't shift away anymore. He remained where he was, his leg stuck down his back. When they were walking in the garden, their arms - and sometimes their hands - brushed every now and then without ever really touching a long time. Dean laid as soon as he could his fingers on Castiel. To remove a hair resting on his shirt. Remove an eyelash fallen on his cheek. Clean a stain on his collar.

Castiel surprised himself by touching Dean. He didn't even know any more if it was intentional or not. The fact remained that he couldn't help himself to do so. A hand on his shoulder to show a bird's nest in a tree. Another on his legs when he talked to him in his room. He had this new need to graze, to grope, to feel. He was thirsty for Dean's warmth, for the comfort of his skin, the softness of his hair. He always needed more.

They hugged each other for everything and anything, now. To say hello. To say goodbye. When they spoke of the things that made them happy or those that made them sad. When they didn't know what to say anymore.

Something had changed.

And Castiel fully realized it when, as he had come to see Dean before going into the room of his cousin, they found themselves in front of one another, their eyes on their lips. Castiel couldn't quite understand how they had managed to get there.

When Castiel had passed before the room of Dean, the latter had called him, asking him to join him for a few minutes. He had taken a little time to explain himself, to finally open his mouth to share his thought with him. Then, he had told him that he had finally understood what Castiel had meant, a few weeks earlier. That he was finally beginning to make peace with himself. And he that had good news for him.

A few seconds later, they were nearly kissing. Maybe was it because their fingers had intertwined gently, delicately. Maybe was it because Castiel's heart had raced at that contact, ready to escape from his chest. Or maybe was it just because Dean was beautiful.

And everything could have been so easy, so simple. A simple touch. A simple caress on their lips. It certainly wasn't the best idea Castiel had had in his life, but at this very moment, he desperately didn't care. Only Dean's hot breath against his mouth mattered. There was nothing else in this world anymore.

He wanted to kiss Dean Winchester.

When a cry painfully brought him back to reality.

A shrill cry. Piercing.

A cry that Castiel had already heard. A cry that haunted him for too many years.

_Anna._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I have a hard time in the writing of the eleventh chapter, so I'll take a little time before publishing the tenth. Well, 'a little time'. Up to one week, I think! I want to quickly end this story to return to The Shortest Straw :)
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Ellen.


	10. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: We slowly but surely approach the end. This is the tenth chapter!
> 
> Special Thanks: Thank you infinitely to Dupont et Dupont for her corrections and advices, and her joyfullness. I give you ice cream for the trouble.
> 
> And a big thank you to Krohma for her translation!
> 
> Happy reading!

It was strange how it all had begun with a cry and how, some way, everything was over the same way. A cry. It was as if there was some sort of perverse fate that was pulling the strings of life and who enjoyed to close loops, to give a certain poetry, a certain pattern, to the vagaries of life.

A simple house of cards, this is what had been the last few months. Nothing but cards stacked on each other only waiting for the lightest of breezes to collapse. And Castiel was the king.

The king of fools.

How had he not see it all coming? How had he dared to believe that his behavior wouldn't have any impact?

"I don't understand Castiel." Hester's voice crackled through the phone. "Yet it is Saturday. Weren't you with her as you usually are? Why was she alone? Yet it's the visiting day, you know that she shouldn't be left on her own those days. She isn't surrounded by doctors and nurses. Where were you?"

Castiel ran a hand over his face. His knuckles pressed his skin, painfully rubbing his temple.

"I wasn't far, I… I was just nearby."

"You were late?"

Castiel dropped his head back and sank a little more on the bench. His feet were twisting in all directions, writhing, fussing.

"No, I was just talking to a friend, Dean."

"Castiel, I don't understand why you seek to befriend these people. Who is this Dean? He's new, isn't he? You never told me about him."

_These people_.

Castiel dropped his hands on his thighs with a sigh. It was useless to debate for the umpteenth time with his aunt.

"He is… I… This is not what's important, Hester. I was calling just to keep you informed of Anna's health."

"I know that Castiel, but I think she wouldn't have tried to take her own life if you had been with her as you should have been. Do you understand? You shouldn't have been anywhere else at this time."

"I know Hester." Castiel whispered. "I know."

"I don't think you really understand yet." She said coldly.

Castiel didn't reply.

"OK" Hester lost patience. "Where is she now?"

"The nurses are taking care of her to calm her down. They will call me when I can go to see her. I'm waiting in the garden."

"Do I have to come?" She asked with a sigh.

"As you wish, Hester. This is your niece. It's up to you if you want to come to see her or not."

"It's not that I don't want to Castiel and you perfectly know it. We don't all have a post with low responsability like you. We can't all be free the weekend."

"I understand. Could you inform the others, please? I take care of the rest."

After this painful phone conversation, Castiel didn't want to face the criticism of the others. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he should have been with Anna and not with Dean.

Dean.

"Hm, if necessary. All right. Keep me informed, Castiel. And take care of your cousin, will you? Thank you."

A second later, the dull tone told Castiel that his aunt had hung up. It didn't even surprise him. His family had never really been there to Anna, even when her two parents had been killed before the eyes of his cousin by a deviant psychopath who claimed to love her. They maybe had come to the funeral but they hadn't bothered to come to the trial. Only Gabriel had come with him. Their only help had been the money they gave for Anna to be commited after her fifth outbreak. The one that had almost cost her her life.

Castiel watched his hands. They were shaking. He couldn't cry. He had to be strong. Strong for Anna. And if the only thing he could do now was waiting then Castiel would wait. Never mind that the minutes had a taste of eternity, never mind if they were weaving together in a fatal slowness.

So, on a bench in the garden of the Broughton Hospital, Castiel was waiting.

The nurses came to get him an hour later. Castiel followed them silently. He listened them talk. Anna had had an outbreak for no reason. She had screamed, again and again, and had thrown herself against the walls of her room. She hadn't managed to harm herself much. The drugs had weakened her too much. She was better now.

When he passed before Dean's room, Castiel saw him in the doorway. Dean took a step toward him, all his anxiety and anguish tattooed on his face, rooted in his eyes. Of course he was worried. Of course. As if his own condition wasn't complicated enough like this.

Dean couldn't torment himself like that for him. It wouldn't help him, on the contrary. Dean had to worry about his own health, his own remission. Castiel was a burden.

So, Castiel made "no" with the head. Dean stopped short. He looked at Castiel pass before him.

Castiel lowered his eyes.

And he didn't understand why people say that one "fell" in love. They were all wrong. To Castiel, it was quite the opposite. His encounter with Dean had been a breath of pur air, a burst, a flight. His laugh and eyes and freckles. His kindness and courage and humility. Having the chance to know him. To love him, from afar. All this, all of this had given him wings and had carried him away, away, away.

To love Dean Winchester had sent him to the seventh heaven, as they said.

And now... And now everything was crumbling around him, collapsing, breaking down in an endless fall.

The nurses opened Anna's room and it was with a lump of regret and shame stuck in the throat that Castiel took the first step. The nurses closed the door behind him, leaving him alone with his cousin.

Castiel didn't know if he could make it. If he wasn't going to lose his mind, too.

He was tired. So tired.

Anna was quietly lying on her bed, smiling, as if nothing had happened. Only, around her wrists, two solid beige straps were firmly attached. Castiel's gaze fixed upon these handcuffs that imprisoned her in bed. For months he hadn't seen them and Castiel had finally persuaded himself that Anna was done with them, with that violence that drove her without reason.

Castiel got closer to his cousin and put his hand on her creamy cheek before letting it wander in her flaming hair. He leaned slightly and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering long on the scrapes and scratches she had inflicted to herself.

"I'm here now, Anna. I'm here."

Everything was falling apart around Castiel. Even he felt himself stagger, topple, fall.

And it was all his fault.

So that was what it felt when you flew too close from the sun and you burnt your wings.

The following week, Castiel arrived at the beginning of visiting hours and left only when they ended. When he passed before Dean's room, Castiel hesitated for a few seconds.

But he knew that if he entered, he couldn't restrain the tears that were eager to spill down his cheeks. Dean would see him sad, would see him collapse. Fallen. And Dean needed happiness in his life. Needed laughter. Needed Sam, Jessica, Mary. Needed Jo, Ellen, Bobby. Not a disillusioned Castiel. So, he went on his way, with a heavy heart.

The following week, he didn't hesitate and went straight into Anna's room. Castiel wondered when he would manage to do it without wanting to vomit.

And a month passed.

Now Castiel hated the walls of the hospital. They were thin. Way too thin. They let the laughs pass. They made him hear what he didn't deserve. He heard  _his_  name. He heard their voices.

Castiel occasionally ran into Sam and Jessica. They exchanged a few words quickly. Castiel asked if he was okay, if he was getting better. He didn't try to find out if he talked about him, if he said that he missed Castiel.

"He continues." Sam would often answer him. "He's heading in the right direction."

Sam never asked him if he wanted to come with them, he wanted to see  _him_. Jessica threw him sad looks. And Castiel, he wanted to tell them he missed him, that he wanted to see him, talk to him, touch him. Be there with him.

But he said nothing. He kept quiet. He kept it all for himself, well hidden next to his heart.

When Castiel ran into Jo, she didn't hold back asking when he would finally come to see him again.

"I don't know, Jo. I… I don't know. Soon."

Castiel knew he would have to do it one day or another. He would have to explain to him, tell him why he kept away from him. Why his presence wasn't good for him.

"Yeah... I don't know why everyone keeps saying that it's better this way. I think it sucks. Anyway. One day it'll be too late, but have it your way. It's not like we can really force you anyway."

And Jo left without one last look, ready to join his room. Castiel looked at her walk before him, her blonde hair billowing with every step. Yes, soon Castiel would go to see him.

Only he wasn't quite ready yet.

There was something strange in the following week when Castiel walked past his room. With time, he had gotten accustomed to not look at it anymore but he couldn't help feeling a strange sensation when his feet skirted the door.

It was closed. Not ajar as usual but closed. His room was never closed normally. Except when he had been isolated for his new treatment.

What had happened? Was he okay?

This issue didn't leave Castiel for the whole day. He still stayed with Anna, watching her stare at the TV screen without a word. His cousin was getting better. It was as if there had never been an outbreak. As if all this had never happened. As if the last few months simply hadn't exist.

Castiel couldn't help looking at his watch regularly and, a few minutes before the end of visiting hours, he kissed his cousin on the cheek, put on his coat and went out.

Then, without knocking, Castiel went into the next room.

It was empty. Completely empty. There weren't even sheets on the bed anymore, not even a quilt or pillows. Just a beige mattress. On the dresser, the frames were gone and the pile of books had been removed.

There was nothing left. Nothing at all.

Castiel didn't think a second longer and rushed to the reception before the secretaries finish their day. He rushed down the hall, rushed down the stairs and across the lobby in an instant.

"Dean." Castiel suddenly blurted out when he arrived at the counter. "Dean Winchester."

Surprised, the secretary started. She put a hand on her heart and her gray eyes fluttered slightly. She was staring at Castiel as if he came from another planet or another astral plane. The young woman seemed trying to catch her breath.

"Tell me where is Dean Winchester."

The face of the secretary immediately changed. She pursed her lips and replied dryly:

"Hello to you too. What can I help you with?"

"As I said, I'm looking for Dean Winchester, he is no longer in his room, I don't understand, I…"

"Are you a family member? I'm afraid to not being able to communicate personal information if this isn't the case."

"I'm just… A friend."

"I cannot help you then."

No, that wasn't possible. Castiel had to know if Dean was all right. Panic ran throughout the body of Castiel, who couldn't help shaking.

"Sorry." She added, without really bothering to pretend to be.

"But…"

Castiel ran a hand over his face and swallowed painfully.

"Can I at least know if he's okay? Don't necessarily tell me where he was taken, I just want to make sure that, that he's…"

The secretary – Julie according to her name tag – sighed and declared:

"I guess I can at least do that. Wait a moment."

"Thank you." Castiel replied immediatly. "Thank you."

The woman shrugged before getting up and heading to the gray filing cabinets that stood behind her desk.

"Dean Winchester, is that it?"

"Yes."

Castiel's fingers mechanically played with themselves, sweaty and anxious. A metallic scraping resonated in the hall when the secretary opened the drawer with the letter "W". Castiel gulped and waited. Julie's hands rummaged through the files, skimming them one by one until she brought out a thick folder. Green. Of course. The eyes of the secretary browsed the folder.

"Oh" She whispered.

Then she looked up, a different look on her face. Castiel felt like his heart was going to stop.

"You're Castiel?" She asked.

"Uh" Castiel answered before clearing his throat. "Yes, that's me."

"It's you." She repeated. "I wondered if you were going to come. Wait for me a few seconds here."

Then, without any more explanation, the young woman went to the storehouse. Castiel frowned. What was going on?

Seconds later, Julie stood again before him. An orchid and a letter in the hands.

"Mr. Winchester has left this last week before leaving. He left the institution. He asked if it was possible to give you this flower and this note. I tried to take care of it but I don't really have a green thumb. I did what I could. You'll probably take care of it better than me."

Castiel stared at her wordlessly and took the flower the young woman was handing him.

The orchid was blue.

Carried by three long, straight stems, its sepals wore different shades, from cyan to cobalt. Gray strokes stippled the petals, scattering their strips. Knited to the column of the flower, the pistils bent majestically.

It was the most beautiful flower that Castiel had ever seen in his life.

When the nurse gave him the letter written by Dean, Castiel sniffed rudely.

"Thank you." He managed to enunciate. "Thank you very much."

Julie gave him a smile before focusing on her computer screen.

Mechanical, instinctive movements, led Castiel outside the hospital. Dean was gone. Dean was fine. Everything was fine.

Without really knowing how he could have walked head straight, orchid in one hand, letter in the other, Castiel finally decided to open the envelope.

 

_Hey, Cas._

_I have to say that I don't really know where to start. Besides, I had the good sense to not specify that I wanted more sheets to write this letter to you. I only have this measly piece of paper. This single try._

_And even if I don't know how to start this letter, if I'm not even sure you'll know that it exists or that you'll want to read it… Guess I'd be better off not screwing up, right?_

_So better cut to the chase. Cas. Thank you. Thank you for everything._

_I don't know if you realize the importance that you've had during the last months. Without you, I probably wouldn't even be able to think properly, to write this letter and just get out of here._

_You, you came to see me in that room while you didn't know me. You gave me flowers. Fucking flowers. No one ever gave me flowers in my life and I didn't think to be the kind of guy to even want to receive some. And yet. I noticed and I liked them._

_Then you entered and you talked to me. About your bees. About your job. About your childhood stories with Gabriel and Anna. About your desire to find your father. About your daily life, your habits. About these neighbors you don't know enough. About this house too cold to your liking. You told me about religion, angels and creation stories._

_And how long has it been? One year since I'm here?_ _All I know is, since you literally walked into my life, everything sped up._ _You taught me to love life again, to recover a liking for colors, burgers, pleasure. You made me want to laugh and laugh and laugh._

_Without you, I think I'd still be in this damn hospital room to continue to hurt the ones I love. Without you, I_

_I don't really know where I was getting at. Damn, this letter is grotty. It's just that, you know, I have so much to tell you and explain to you and make you understand and my thoughts fail to be consistent, to structure everything, to find the right words. It's just too difficult._

_Sorry Cas, you deserve better than that. You deserve a beautiful writing, beautiful figures of speech or something. Sorry._

_Just know that you laid your hand on me and you raised me from this hell I had built. You saved me._

_So thank you, Cas. Thank you for everything._

_Dean._

 

After having read and reread the words Dean had written to him, Castiel looked up. In front of him, the sun was falling asleep and gradually sinking into the horizon. A few clouds dotted the sky around here and there, crumbling and collapsing in long white and gray streaks.

And it's only when the ground painfully collided with his knees that Castiel realized it wasn't the world around him that was crumbling. It would still be running, everything would be fine, Dean would be fine since Dean was gone. It was just him, simply him.

It was Castiel who had just fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I hope you don't hate me too much and you enjoyed this chapter. It wasn't the easiest to write, I admit. But I like it anyway, in its own way. Thank you for reading and please tell me what you thought!
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Ellen.


	11. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: Tonight I had nothing planned, the chapter was ready so... Why wait? Here's the eleventh chapter!
> 
> Special thanks: In addition to thank her for this chapter, I also send all my love to Dup' for putting up with my emo crisis this week, of re-assessment and having put me back on the right track. Thank you putting up with me for over a year, grandma.
> 
> Thank you to Krohma too! Thanks to her this story is translated into English, wow.
> 
> Happy reading!

Ba boom, ba boom.

A minute passed and red blood cells went through all the blood circulation system. The pace was steady, regular. Contraction. Expulsion. Closure of atrioventricular valves. Ba boom. Spillage of blood in the atria. Evacuation to the ventricles and the circulatory system. Closure of sigmoid valves. Ba boom. Relaxation of the heart.

Seventy-five beats per minute. Five liters of blood every sixty seconds.

Ba boom, ba boom.

Everything was under control, synchronized. The pulsating blood expelled by the heart came and went through his arteries and veins, toting leukocytes and erythrocytes on either side of his body.

Castiel slid his hand under his coat and put it on his chest. Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, ba boom.

His heart had stopped for a few seconds, a year earlier, when he had fallen on the same parking lot, letter and blue orchid in hands. It had stopped to beat, to resonate in his chest. Then Castiel had stood up, and life had returned to normal after. What could he do? His cousin was counting on him. That was all that mattered, right? Being alive. Caring for Anna. Being there.

Now, under the thin thickness of his shirt, Castiel could barely feel the beating of his heart, so regular. Since that day, his heart was beating again and again, in a slow and monotonous ba-boom.

Castiel hadn't seen Dean again. He could have gone to the Roadhouse to ask after him to Ellen or Jo. He could have searched the Internet, or simply on an online directory. He could have looked for him. He could have.

It wasn't that Castiel didn't want to, no. He had even hesitated at first. Castiel wanted so much to talk to him, to tell him he was already proud of him and that he was sorry he hadn't come to see him earlier. Yet, twelve whole months had passed without him to find the courage to do so. Twelve months where he eventually gave up, saying to himself that he had no place in Dean's life. And that it was probably better that way.

Anyway, Dean was fine now. Whether it was with or without Castiel, he was healed, out of those gray walls and stinking corridors. So yes, it was for the best.

Castiel stared at the doors of the hospital and it was hand over his heart that he entered the building. Ba boom, ba boom.

He greeted Julie with the hand – she replied with a genuine smile – before stepping into in the depths of the hospital. Castiel threw a glance at his watch. He was fifteen minutes late.

Anna was getting better, now. She no longer had outbreaks, not since the last time. The doctors had changed her treatment and she wasn't violent anymore. She didn't harm herself or the others anymore, and she was always the same with her moments of blanks and her moments of life.

Castiel still hurried up. Anna was waiting for him, after all.

He no longer took the same path as before, although it held him up a minute longer. He passed through the garden, took another door and another staircase. This way, he came from the other end of the corridor. This way, he no longer passed in front of his room. Castiel could pretend to have forgotten him. It was easier this way. Not necessarily very brave, but easy. This was the most important.

When he found himself in front of his cousin's door, a detail marked him immediately. It was ajar and it normally never was. A voice echoed. Castiel froze. It wasn't Anna. It wasn't Hester, nor even Noami or even Zachariah. It was neither Michael, nor Uriel. It was also not Gabriel. The voice spoke again, and Castiel recognized it. It had been a year since he had heard it, but he knew he wasn't mistakening.

Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, ba boom.

Castiel put his hand on the door and pushed it slightly. He took a step, then a second. In front of him, Anna was sitting on her bed, smiling. At her side, Dean had just stood up.

Ba boom, ba boom.

Dressed in an outfit consisting of a shirt with blue and red tiles and dark jeans, so simple, Dean was beautiful. He was different but beautiful. Even though his hair was still light brown, his eyes still green and gold and his freckles still so erratic on his now tanned face, he seemed to be more in shape, more colorful, more alive.

"Hey." Dean greeted him, slightly raising his hand.

"Hello, Dean."

Without taking his eyes off him, Castiel approached his cousin. He then kissed her on the forehead, as he used to do now.

Castiel then removed his coat, folded it and put it on the edge of the bed.

"Still with your trench-coat." Dean remarked with a chuckle.

Castiel brought his gaze on him again, not knowing what to answer. Dean stopped laughing and cleared his throat. What was he doing here? Why was he in Anna's room? Castiel wanted to ask him a thousand questions, to understand, but he didn't know where he should begin.

He was completely lost.

"You okay?" Dean finally asked after a long silence.

"Yes."

Dean bit his lips and his eyes shied away for a few seconds.

"What about you, Dean? How are you?"

"Good. I'm good, Cas."

Castiel nodded and a swell of emotions blew through his body, his muscles, his veins, his heart. It was only at that moment that he realized how much he had missed Dean. He who had restrained his feelings, who had set them aside, who had even forgotten them, he could no longer fight. And Castiel wanted to ask him more details to know what he had become, if he had missed him, too. But nothing came out of his mouth. Castiel contented himself with gazing at him, a little voice asking if Dean really was there before him, or if he was just imagining him.

"I thought that the best way to find you was to come here. I realized that I didn't even know your last name. I didn't even know how to find you."

Ba boom, ba boom.

"You tried to find me, Dean?"

It was stupid but Castiel couldn't help feeling a tip of hope and joy sneak into his veins and intermingle with the ba-boom pulsing in his heart.

"No, I mean yes. Well, only for a few weeks now."

Oh.

Okay.

"I mean it's not that I didn't want to but I– Fuck, it's complicated."

"Why are you here, Dean?"

"To see you. To talk to you. Alone."

"You know I have to stay with Anna until the end of visiting hours. I don't want to let her alone - not anymore."

"I know, Cas. I was just afraid to miss you. I… I can wait outside, if you want. Or even leave, if you don't want to have this discussion. It's up to you."

"You can stay."

And Dean stayed. They spent the day watching television and Castiel talked occasionally with Anna. She didn't ask who Dean was, thank God. She had probably not notice his presence. Dean didn't say much, thanking him every now and then for letting him stay, confiding that he was happy to see that Anna was getting better. When he didn't talk, he simply waited, his eyes straying from time to time to Castiel's.

Castiel strictly didn't know what to think of it, of his presence here, his return in his life. Was it really a return? Or did Dean just want to have a single conversation? What did he want to talk about?

Ba boom, ba boom. Castiel's heart had slightly calmed down and resumed a steady pace. It no longer started when his eyes landed on his former friend. He already missed the feeling.

Through the windows, the sun began to weaken and taper into the horizon. The beginning of the program that announced the arrival of the fifth hour of the afternoon rang in the room. Visiting hours would end in five minutes. Castiel didn't know if he was ready. Although, yes, he knew: he wasn't ready at all.

Ba boom, ba boom, ba boum.

And his heart seemed to rather agree with him.

They didn't say a word more when Castiel kissed Anna goodbye, not even when they walked side by side in the hallway. When they reached the parking lot, Castiel even wondered if they weren't going to go like this, each on their own, without having managed to speak, to say something.

Maybe it would be easier, by the way. Castiel would maybe take a little time to forget Dean again but he could do it. He had already managed to, right? They hadn't said much yet, it wasn't too late.

Dean approached a long jet black car, with fine and angular lines. Metallic and silver lines adorned its bodywork, overhanging a license plate on which was written "KAZ 2Y5". Castiel didn't have a good knowledge of cars, but he could admit that this auto was beautiful. Majestic, even.

"I never had the opportunity to introduce you to my baby." Dean said.

Castiel turned to him, not really understanding where he was getting at. He observed him for long seconds, trying to discern his thoughts, desires, all these mysteries he hid and Castiel hadn't discovered yet. Dean was still gazing at the car, a proud smile drawn on his lips.

"My father gave me this car shortly before I went in Afghanistan. I've always fantasized about it. It was  _the_ car. No other could replace her in my heart. You can't imagine how happy I was that day. And now I can drive her again."

"I don't understand, Dean."

"Yeah. Sorry. I just thought… Break the ice, you know?"

Castiel nodded. Dean got closer to him and his sad eyes wandered on his face, coming and going over his eyes, his hair, his mouth. Ba. Boom. Ba. Boom.

"I don't know where to start, Cas. I… I'm really glad to see you're doin' good? I missed you? All of that I want to tell you, but I… I want to take you in my arms, to… I missed you, Cas. I missed you."

Ba boom.

"And I wanted to see you again, you know. I was dying to do so. But I didn't want to do it as long as I wasn't ready, you understand? When I realized how Anna's health was fragile, how you had to be there for her… I decided to put aside my selfish feelings. She also needed you. Maybe even more than I did. So I wanted to heal, I wanted to be independent, have a job, an apartment, a stable life. I didn't want to be a burden on your shoulders, a ball at your feet. Something you would have ended up regretting."

Dean took another step closer to Castiel. They were close, so close. And Castiel's heart was accelerating, contracting, pulsating and beating, beating, beating.

A hand laid on his arm. Dean was touching him. After all these months, Castiel felt again his warmth on him, his presence against his and the second after, Dean's arms wrapped Castiel in a shy embrace. Ba boom, ba boom, ba boum.

"Did you read my letter, Cas?"

"Yes." He whispered.

"Remember, I said that I had wanted so much to tell you that I was finally leaving the hospital."

"Yes."

"I wanted to tell you so bad that I wasn't able to wait, I called you while you were still in the hallway. Remember this moment?"

"Yes, I…"

Castiel's voice cracked and without really thinking about it, his own arms closed around Dean. He let himself being flooded by the warmth of his friend, this man nested against his body, by his breath, his smell, his presence. Dean's breathing accelerated, visibly disturbed by Castiel's reaction.

It was definitely too late for Castiel, now. He could never forget him. It was impossible.

"I remember." He finished.

Dean's warm hands rested on his chest. He made him slightly move back and Castiel didn't resist and his arms fell to his sides. Dean stared at his face, a new form of hope in the eyes. He opened his mouth several times, looking for words, before taking up:

"It was a sad day, a day that I tried to forget. But I was wrong, finally. Since, beyond that, there was something else. You know what else I wanted to do that day, Cas?"

Did Dean mean… their closeness? Castiel swallowed. Memories stirred his thoughts and the beating of his heart quickened in his ribcage. He had tried to forget this moment of distraction, this moment of selfishness, during these last months.

"I held your hand to manage to, to pluck up courage." Dean continued.

As if to illustrate his words, Dean slid his fingers on the palms of Castiel and gently brushed his skin. Castiel looked down and watched their hands join, bind, intermingle timidly and reality hit him with full force. A year well might have passed since their separation, his feelings hadn't changed.

Castiel looked up and was about to open his mouth, to justify himself, to explain, to apologize, when lips landed on his own, stopping him short in its tracks.

B-baboom.

Castiel's eyes widened, riveted on Dean's that were closed. The two mouths stayed bonded to each other for long seconds and Castiel didn't know how to react. What was happening? What was Dean doing?

Against him, he felt Dean sigh long before slightly move away from him. A few seconds later, green eyes were staring at him again.

"This, Cas. That's what I wanted to do."

"Oh." Castiel cleverly replied.

"Yeah, 'oh'."

Dean's lips pursed in a fine line. He swayed slightly on his feet, visibly uncomfortable. Castiel, he didn't know what to do anymore. All that was beyond him. His thoughts were no longer coherent.

"Now." Dean continued, voice cracked. "I'm a little more worthy of you. So I'm here, if you, if… If you want of me?"

"But you don't need me now." Castiel whispered while frowning. "You're better, you have your own life now."

"Cas." Dean retorted by laying his hand on him again. "Cas, listen to me. This life, I built it for me but also for you. I might be better, but that doesn't stop the fact that… Damn, it sounds so cliché but I need your smile. I need your eyes. I need your skin against me. I need you, Cas."

"I… I don't know. I still have my demons–"

"I ain't perfect either Cas." Dean quickly cut him off as if he was afraid that Cas would run away. "I still have nightmares, I… I'll never really be normal, you know. It's just… I felt like we got along pretty well you and me? Like we were a bit more than friends? It was probably pretentious to imagine that given my condition but there were Sammy and Jess who kept telling that you liked me, that it was obvious. Even Bobby had gotten down to it, goes to show. Were they wrong? Was I wrong too? And just tell me if you want me to stop, if you want me to leave you alone. After all I come to disturb your life, you may have no place for me now.

Castiel frowned and replied suddenly:

"I have no one in my life, Dean."

"Okay." He replied in a smile. "Okay. So. Do you want of me, Cas?"

Castiel wasn't really sure to realize the situation. Dean was there, before him, asking him if he wanted of him. This was what he had never dared to hope. And yet.

Seconds, maybe even minutes passed without Castiel to find the words to express what he felt. Dean decided to speak again and looked hurt.

"Hm, you really ain't gonna say anything? 'cuz, like, I just kissed you and made a monologue straight out of a fucking romantic comedy I'm sure of it… That's positively not something I usually do. Well, yes, I kiss people. But not… Not the ones I really like? Those with whom I want more than a one night stand? So uh, yeah, if you could just say something… Or just react? Yell at me, hit me or maybe just kiss me, who knows. It'd be friggin' better if you kissed me, but I could understand if you–"

Castiel stepped forward and smashed in turn his lips on Dean's who almost jumped. The contact was abrupt, almost brutal. Castiel hadn't really measured his strength. Actually he hadn't measured anything at all. He had simply acted as he wished to, as he wanted to, just obeying to his longings and desires. And it was good.

"Woah hang on Cas." Dean articulated by making him slightly move back. "Don't think I'm not thrilled but it was a bit violent, here."

"I apologize Dean." Castiel immediately replied, stomach heavy and throat tight.

"It's no big deal Cas, it's even rather awesome. And you know why?"

Castiel frowned.

"No?"

"Cause now I can…"

Dean got closer and gently brushed his lips on Castiel's jaw. He brushed his unshaven skin, laying lines of almost imperceptible kisses. B-baboom.

"…do it again…"

His mouth slid over his own, gently, slowly. It placed a first kiss, then a second, then a third. Dean's tongue escaped from between his lips and caressed Castiel's. A shiver ran through his whole body and Castiel couldn't resist pressing his body against Dean's, his hands pinning on his neck, on the roots of his hair before slipping into his hair. A laugh rolled down the throat of Dean who finished, between two kisses:

"…as many times as I want."

So Dean kissed him again and again, and Castiel was as desperate as him. Maybe even more. He kissed him back, again, again, again, and his tongue ventured on his lips, against his puck, in his mouth, and his hands caressed him here and there, wishing, thus far, to never stop. It was as if a promise was sealing in the parking lot of the Broughton hospital. As if the rest of his life wouldn't be enough to satiate his lips of Castiel's, as if this contact was a vital need, a necessity.

And the heart of Castiel had learned a new way to beat in the intoxicating baboom, there, against Dean's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And that was the last "chapter". There's only the epilogue, now. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Ellen.


	12. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: And here it is. The very last chapter. This is the first time I finish a story (if you don't count the OS). So I'm a bit stirred and excited at the same time. Proud too. I can therefore explain where this idea comes from now. It was just a dream. Usually I'm always myself in my dreams, but not this time. I was Castiel and was watching Anna in her hospital bed. Then, on leaving, I passed a room where there was Dean. Then I woke up. And everything was built around this image.
> 
> It was a pleasure to write this story, chapter by chapter. Thank you to all those who supported me, read and those who left reviews. It was a great adventure and it's thanks to you. So thank you!
> 
> Special Thanks: Thank you to Dupond et Dupont who helped me from the beginning to the end of this story. If you enjoyed the quality, it's thanks to her. And thank you to Krohma who gives a second life to this story by translating it.
> 
> Happy (last) reading!
> 
>  
> 
> Krohma's notes: So this is it, the last chapter. It was a real pleasure to work on this amazing story, and even more to work with Ellen who brought me her presence, advices, corrections, and a mass of good mood. Thank you Ellen~
> 
> I'd also like to thank all the people who read and commented this story and made it even more enjoyable to translate.
> 
> Happy reading, enjoy!

Castiel kissed the forehead of his cousin and left, gently closing the door behind him. He slipped into the door frame of the Balthazar's room and gave him a hand gesture to greet him, with a smile, before quickly visit Garth and Mr. Fizzles. He then went into the room 42 where now resided an old man a bit mad who only talked about his children who he had abandoned, the voice tinged with a sad guilt. Castiel again listened to him telling his nonsensical story, put a hand on his shoulder, reassured him. Then he left.

After discussing a few minutes with Julie, Castiel out of the hospital, head-high and light-hearted. The doors of the building closed behind him and the warm summer breeze caressed his skin, slipping on his face and through his hair. The splinters of the setting sun shone on his trench coat, gratifying it with warm and golden tones. Castiel Inhaled. Exhaled. This hot season had a peculiar smell that Castiel couldn't quite define. A mix of freshly cut grass and vaguely spread Monoi oil. Of vanilla ice cream and heated tar. Of grills and cold beer.

Castiel no longer took the same direction he used to go a few months earlier. He no longer lived there for several months now, in the rich suburbs of the city. He had moved to a small house just a few minutes from the hospital and the police station, on the outskirts of the city center. The house wasn't very far from the Singer garage either, which was perfect for Dean now that he worked full-time there.

The place was maybe not to the same standard than the home he once had - and he could still hear the disapproving remarks of his uncles and aunts on his new life choice - but Castiel felt good there. He felt at home. Since it was their place to both of them, to Dean and him.

A smile appeared on the lips of Castiel when he branched off into the street of his new home where the colorful facades of houses succeeded one after the other: the Impala was parked in front of the driveway, its ebony features clashing in the colorful horizon.

Dean was there, at their home.

After the argument they had had that morning - argument which Castiel didn't even remember the origin - he wouldn't have been so surprised if Dean had decided to spend his evening at the Roadhouse, away from him. By dint of foolishly believe that Castiel was going to leave and abandon him because he continued nevertheless to still have violent nightmares, Dean often found easier to run away the first. To suffer less, probably. Castiel had initially been hurt faced with the behavior of his partner but since Dean always ended up coming back, Castiel had ended up not saying anything and waiting.

And even when Dean would finally realize that his companion would always be by his side, Castiel was fully aware that it wasn't for all that the arguments would stop, whether they concern an empty milk carton forgotten in the fridge, the repayment of the house loan or the adoption application which progressed only far too slowly despite the cradle quietly waiting in the first floor bedroom.

Meanwhile, Dean was there tonight. He wasn't running away. Perhaps he was beginning to understand that these disputes didn't measure up to all these wake they spent together, the blue drowned in the green or green engulfed by blue. To their spontaneous life and their fingers intertwined. To their looks, their smiles and laughter. To their hungry lips and sighs and fevered murmurs. Dean was perhaps realizing that Castiel had never been happier than he was now, not even so much in love.

When Castiel switched the handle, a noise of metal crashing on the floor resounded throughout the house. Castiel frowned and gently closed the door behind him. From where he was, he could hear Dean curse under his breath while a sweet smell of roast meat, runner beans and onions baked in the oven crept into his nostrils. Dean had prepared a dinner for him. Hand on his stomach which was already gurgling of impatience, Castiel was about to join him in the kitchen when a desperate voice cut him short in his approach:

"Don't come in!"

Castiel froze and then remained motionless, not knowing what to do.

"Is everything all right Dean?"

"Yes, yes, yes." His distant voice answered. "Just don't come in the kitchen!"

The floor creaked under the feet of Dean when he appeared in the doorway, his hair a mess and flour on the nose. His companion passed the back of his palm on his face, cursing, and Castiel couldn't help smiling.

"Could you take Crowley out?" Dean asked in a small voice. "I didn't have the time to do it today. He must be in our room. Just give me another thirty minutes, please."

Dean bit his lips, waiting for Castiel's answer.

"Of course Dean, I'll go get changed and then I'll do it."

A huge smile on his lips, Dean disappeared back into the kitchen humming  _Poor Some Sugar On Me_ \- yes, Castiel recognized all the songs Dean listened to and sang now. Castiel let out a small laugh before heading to their room.

Many photographs were hung along the main corridor of the house and Castiel couldn't help looking at them whenever he passed beside them. There was Mary who was growing up far too quickly and Jessica's belly which was bulging again. There were Dean and Castiel, hand in hand. At the edge of the lake. Near the barbecue. On the front steps of Sam and Jessica's house. There was also Anna, in her flamboyant youth. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Sam, Jessica, Dean and Castiel at the Roadhouse. There was even Crowley, asleep on the knees of Bobby who seemed to not really know how to react. There were memories, promises, hopes. A happy family. United.

Castiel came into his room where he found Crowley lying at the end of the bed, its snoring flooding the room. The noise caused by Dean hadn't even woken him. Castiel sighed before the animal. When he had suggested to have a dog, he'd been far from imagining that Dean could come a week later, all smiles, a black Carlin in the arms.

"We said "not on the bed"." Castiel whispered, sitting beside him.

The animal stretched before raising its head, its big bulging eyes staring sadly. Crowley yelped slightly, trying to gain the sympathy of its owner who couldn't help smiling at his animal. Castiel often found himself helpless against it.

"Come on, let's go for a walk."

Castiel took off his trench coat, his tie and shirt before putting on a t-shirt of Dean. He was always better in his companion's shirts, wrapped in his smell. Jacket on his back, Castiel then tied a leash to the collar of Crowley which wrinkled its pug nose, before taking it in his arms. And, struggling against the urge to take a look in the kitchen and find out what Dean was concocting for their evening, Castiel quickly walked down the hall.

He walked around the block, controlling more or less his dog which had decided to sniff all crannies of the streets. As he quietly enjoyed the warm atmosphere of this August evening, Castiel ran into Uriel, this not very talkative neighbor with whom he got along well, in the end. They discussed about the neighborhood, his new friend railing against Krissy and Aidan who he had again caught smooching against the wall of his house. Castiel laughed, retorting that he found it more touching than anything else. Castiel sincerely appreciated his neighbors, their bursts of laughter echoing in the streets and the improvised pre-dinner they spent in their company. And although Uriel tended to just criticize everything, it didn't sully his feelings.

When the sun disappeared behind the roofs of the houses Castiel thought it was time for him to go back home. He again sailed along the houses with ocher brick walls and green, orange, blue coatings. Flags of the last neighbors party were still hanging here and there, small colorful triangles blending into the blue sky.

Once back home, Castiel detached the leash of Crowley which rushed like mad in the hallway of the house - towards the marital bedroom, of course.

Castiel, as for himself didn't really dare to move for fear of arriving too early and for Dean to not be ready yet. Only, the sound of water dripping and sliding against a body came quickly to his ears, and he immediately realized that Dean was in the shower. Castiel hesitated for a moment to join him when his curiosity was stirred by a rock'n'roll tune resonating quietly in the living room. Castiel removed his shoes and put on his slippers before heading there.

The table was set, a long black tablecloth covering it and a white orchid placed in its center. The plates were also perfectly arranged, accompanied by their cutlery and wine glasses. The smell that emanated from the kitchen foreshadowed for Castiel that Dean had prepared an intimate dinner. And perhaps his companion was going to be the dessert, once more.

It wasn't every day that Dean was making efforts like this, often preferring the simple evenings without superfluous. But his companion always had the knack of surprising him, of bringing a little spice in his life, of breaking the everyday life and the routine. When it weren't impromptu road trips across the country, it were gifts, surprise parties, stolen kisses.

A throat clearing got Castiel out of his thoughts. He turned around immediately. Dean was leaning against the doorway of the living room. His hair was still wet - a droplet of water ran down his neck before disappearing under his shirt. Damn how much Castiel was in love.

"Hey." Dean whispered with a smile.

Castiel's heart missed a beat. Once more. It never stopped with him. Dean straightened and slowly approached him, his bare feet treading the floor creaking in rhythm. He wrapped his arms around the neck of Castiel, dragged him a little closer to himself and put his lips on his. A sigh of contentment rolled down the throat of Castiel and Dean let out a little laugh against his mouth. He pulled back slightly, stared at him with his big green eyes and whispered:

"Welcome home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: I can't tell you "until a new chapter" or "see you soon on this story," and it makes me a little sad. Thank you, thank you, thank you for following this story to the end, until the final point. It touches me deeply. I didn't think I'd go that far with this universe.
> 
> So, yeah. Thank you.
> 
> And see you soon in new stories?
> 
> Ellen.
> 
>  
> 
> Krohma's notes: We'll never say it too much: Thank you guys. This story is here thanks to you. So thank you!!
> 
> I'm not done with translating for now, Music Matters is still going, and within two weeks I'll start posting the first chapter of Through the darkness, a new translation. Visit my ff.net profile for more informations (search for Deidato there).
> 
> By then, take care and see you soon in other stories~


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